

The Hunting

### By Max Bolt

Copyright 2012 Max Bolt  
Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Epilogue

The spider set the beetles loose, allowing them a start, and a chance to save themselves. It was sport for the spider. Some fun. For the beetles it was life and death. The spider pursued the beetles through the garden and in time they began to wilt and the spider thought his kill was at hand. The beetles realised they could not run forever. And driven by the primal instinct for survival they chose a most astonishing course of action; they took up arms against their aggressor.

And in this way, the spider, the venomous hunter, found himself the hunted.

Insect Wars

Anonymous

Prologue

Night. A farm on the outskirts of Brisbane city. The sky dark in every direction.

Four men surrounded another who was tied to a wooden plank next to a pig pen. The pen was made of wooden logs and meshed with wire. Inside the pen were eight pigs; huge pigs, easily ninety kilos each. Their tusks were the width of broom handles and white and sharp like daggers. They grunted and pressed their snouts against the mesh.

One of the men, tall, with dark hair pressed flat against his scalp, punched the bound man in the face.

"Tell me who put you onto it?"

The bound man's name was Kevin Luka and he was a wreck. Both his cheeks were swollen and crusted blood blocked his broken nose.

"...on't know."

The tall man produced a knife and traced it across Luka's chest; his flesh parted like tissue paper.

"A name. Give it to me."

Luka was close to passing out. His body had absorbed as much as it could take. But he knew what was coming. He had heard about the pigs. Everyone had. He knew who they belonged to. And like their owner, their reputation was so brutal and unbelievable, that Luka had dismissed them as urban legend. But as he looked down at the beasts fighting to get at him through the wire, Luka knew the truth. The pigs were real and he was in a shitload of trouble.

Several nights ago Luka had intercepted a shipment of ice. There had been some shooting and two of the opposition had been killed. Luka had understood from the start that he was cutting in on someone but he did not know that it was Tatani. If he had known, he would have dropped the heist. But hindsight for Luka was a painful bitch. Tatani, realising he had been wronged had reacted swiftly. Two of Luka's boys were shot, and a third was nursing two broken legs. And as for Kevin Luka, well, his life depended right now on the appetite of Tatani's pigs.

The pigs were of the Manchurian breed, native to the jungles of South-East Asia. Fifteen years ago Tatani's brother had imported four juvenile pigs into Australia and set them to breed. The pigs had been conditioned to come to a whistle and survived on a diet of live chickens and rabbits. Carnivorous and positioned close to the top of the food chain, the pigs were very useful.

The tall man stubbed out his cigarette on Luka's face, melting a neat hole in his cheek. He had given up interrogating Luka. Luka had been a pawn in the heist. The men he wanted were the ones that had told Luka what to do. But he would not let Luka walk.

"Very well. Let's give these brutes a nibble?"

The tall man cut Luka's ankle with his knife.

"Pitbull. Karl. Put him in. Feet first," he ordered.

Two men lifted the plank with Luka on it and walked alongside the fence. The pigs followed them on the other side of the mesh. The men stopped in front of a hole in the mesh a metre off the ground and thread the plank with Luka on it into the enclosure, holding him just beyond the reach of the pigs. The pigs had seen all this before and they squealed and butted each other, fighting for the best position.

The men lowered Luka's body and his feet were lost beneath the mass of brown pigs. Luka groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head. He felt the animals eating him, his flesh being torn in different directions, a myriad of giant needle stabs. One of the pigs withdrew with a dripping piece of flesh in its mouth. The others continued to feast; grunting and shoving each other. And while the pigs ate, the man called Pitbull passed the time burning Luka with his cigarette lighter. Luka, immersed in pain, didn't notice his index finger dissolving.

"Pull him back," the tall man ordered.

They hoisted Luka out. Luka's body was convulsing. He was in shock but still conscious. Bloodied stumps remained where his feet had once been. The pigs, having had a taste, were incensed and hungry for more. One of them got a foot up on the fence but lost its balance and tumbled back into the pack.

The tall man surveyed the gore and spoke close to Luka's ear.

"If I let you go, even without your feet, people will talk."

And then to his men. "Put him in again."

The men lifted the wooden plank. This time the Pitbull used his knife to cut the ropes that bound Luka's arms and legs. No longer secured, Luka slid down into the pen. He tried to stand but without his feet it was impossible. He sat up but a pig butted him down, its tusk piercing his abdomen. He tried to roll over and cover up, but the pigs forced him onto his back again. He saw the pigs pouring over him before one of them got a tusk into his eye; then all he saw was stark white. The pigs attacked incessantly; clawing at him with their hooves and ripping him apart with their teeth. And through it all Luka was alive. He screamed and screamed until a pig ripped out his throat at the exact same moment that another pig tore away his mouth.

Outside the pen, the tall man, Tatani, the king of the Brisbane underworld, leant over the fence.

"Good night Luka. I hope it was worth it."

Chapter 1

Stu Matcham skirted the gaming floor of the Brisbane Treasury Casino. He had converted three thousand dollars into chips, but had not taken a seat at a table. There was a line of sweat down his back and his hands were clammy. He knew the odds were stacked against him but he was desperate enough not to care.

The money was all Stu had and it had taken him two years to accumulate the sum. The money was to be a passage to a new life for himself and his girlfriend Lara. When he won tonight he would spend the money on two flights overseas; London, LA, Europe, it did not matter. He had to escape. There was no other way.

Stu was twenty-one years old, tall, with brown hair cut short at the back and long at the front. He had distant eyes that saw a lot but gave away little. At school he had been a first grade rugby player and his body remained toned. The muscle was intimidating. It kept him safe.

Stu was the drug dealer of choice for twenty-something's in inner Brisbane. His customers were predominantly university students, apprentice tradies, and acquaintances that he could trust. He dealt drugs but he did not do drugs. He stayed clean and it made him reliable.

But he wanted out.

The scene had become too hot and too congested. Larger and more violent players were closing in on him. But in his line of work you didn't just walk away. You stop supplying, your customers, desperate for their next hit, come looking for you. You stop buying from your suppliers and they think you've turned into a rat for the police, and come looking for you. No, you don't retire from the centre of a drug racket, you disappear. You vanish and let your buyers and suppliers work it out. And that was why he was here tonight. He would turn his three thousand into six thousand, enough for two airline tickets and some cash to get settled wherever he and Lara landed.

He stopped at a table with a vacant stool. He sized up the dealer: friendly looking. But they all looked friendly; smiling and cracking jokes as they swept your money away. He took a seat at the table and set his chips in a pile.

"Playing?" the dealer asked.

Stu shook his head. "Watching."

"Seats are for players not spectators," the dealer shot back.

"And dealing cards is for dickwads. Just bloody deal yeah."

Stu's response aroused some laughter from the surrounding players.

The dealer glared at him. Stu shrugged. "Just deal, alright."

Stu knew he had just made it personal with the dealer. It had not been his intention. But so what.

The dealer skipped him with the deal. Stu watched the cards flip over, the dealer's hands gliding across the table. When the round was complete, Stu shoved his chips forward, all of them, three thousand dollars riding on the next hand. A life of hopes and fears carried on the back of a pile of plastic chips. Lara would go mental if she knew. But she did not know about the money. And when he went home with six thousand dollars and told her to pack her bags, she would be ecstatic.

The surrounding players raised their eyebrows at his bet. They were betting thirties and forties; three thousand was extreme. A house supervisor approached, and watched over the dealer's shoulder. Stu did not notice the attention as he was focused only on the cards as they appeared in front of him. A ten. Next card, 6. The dreaded sixteen. The dealer pulled a 10.

The player next to Stu hit and went bust.

The dealer glared at Stu: "Hit or sit?"

Stu took his time.

"Hit or sit?" The dealer snapped.

Stu tapped the table. "Card dickwad."

A 4 appeared in front of him. 20. Stu sucked in a breath and indicated to the dealer that he would sit. The player next to him nodded, admiring Stu's nerve. Stu set about willing the dealer to bust.

Hit, hit, hit and bust you card dealing dick.

The cards flew around the table, flashes of colour and numbers, and in an instant it was over. The dealer flipped his card, an ace, twenty-one.

The reality struck Stu like a sledgehammer. He reached instinctively for the chips as the dealer took them away.

"No son," the supervisor was beside him, his hand on his shoulder, "they're not yours anymore."

Stu drew his hand back.

"You in or out?" the supervisor asked.

Stu slid off his stool. His legs were unstable as he headed for the exit. As he walked home he thought about Lara. He thought about the deranged bastards leaning on his drugs racket. He wanted to throw up. As he passed Victoria Bridge, he thought about jumping and dissolving into the water below.

Chapter 2

It was late evening at the home of Giovanni Tatani.

It was a large house, two stories, with the exterior rendered white. The home occupied an elevated position with a view of the city. Surrounded by manicured gardens, the property included a tennis court, an outdoor entertainment area, and a twenty-five metre lap pool.

The home was full of people celebrating Tatani's wife's birthday. Dinner had come and gone, and most of the guests were sitting around a long table on the entertainment deck. The guests sipped wine, and champagne, and watched several young children on the tennis court. Music, some contemporary band that Tatani did not care for, blared out of the stereo in the open sunroom.

The people were Tatani's acquaintances. His wife had few friends of her own. Her life had merged into the shadow of her husband's.

"A refill sir?"

A waiter refilled Tatani's empty glass before glancing at Karl, who stood on Tatani's right. Karl was tall and lean. His features were worn, but he appeared constantly alert. He was Tatani's right hand man; a sharp tactician who actioned strategy without emotion. Karl shook his head. He did not drink. The waiter moved on.

Tatani was standing with Karl at the top of the grass slope that ran down to the entertainment area. He studied the people below. Inevitably, when the night drew to a close, the women would find a way home, and the men would remain to talk.

"What are you two doing?"

A woman wrapped her arms around Tatani's waist.

"Taking a breather," Tatani said

His wife wore a silk dress that hung to just below her thighs. A pair of thin straps held the dress over her shoulders, and the low front displayed the tops of her breasts. Her skin was smooth and olive.

"Karl," she said, "there are several single, young ladies down there. They've been talking about you."

Karl's face shifted only slightly. He said: "If they're anything like you, they're out of my league."

She giggled.

"Does my husband pay you to say such things?"

There was an awkward silence before Tatani spoke.

"Karl merely knows beauty when he sees it."

She shifted into Tatani's body, and the two stood that way for a moment. "This is wonderful," she said, "you being here. Without rushing off in the middle of the night on some secret business."

"My carpet suppliers keep unusual hours," he said.

Tatani's mobile beeped. He got it out, and turned away from her.

"Maurice?"

"I got something," the voice on the line said.

"Can it wait?"

"No. It's worth two M. We have to talk."

"Come over," Tatani said.

Tatani hung up, kissed his wife, and went inside.

The walls and floor of Tatani's lounge room were made of dark cedar wood. A large bar occupied one corner. Two leather recliner chairs faced the front bay window, and a five pronged chandelier hung from the ceiling. A breeze crept through the open window, and stirred the chandelier, making the light shift on the floor.

Karl and Maurice were with Tatani. Maurice was a slight man, thin and unhealthy looking. His eyes were small, and his face was gaunt and washed out. A life of worry had left him a waif. And he had a lot to worry about. He lived his life sourcing, negotiating, and settling trades in drugs and weapons; anything that turned a profit. He lived in constant fear that an enemy from a prior exchange might return and knock him off. But despite his unhealthy exterior, Maurice was well connected. The underworld moved like the tides, and Maurice knew its ebbs and flows. He knew at any given moment, who was getting into bed with who. What shipments were coming and going. Whom the police had busted, and who had been busted by rivals.

Tatani glanced at Maurice.

"Volker? How is it that you know nothing about him, Maurice? You know something about everyone."

Maurice's features twitched. He craved a cigarette, but Tatani's home was non-smoking.

"No one knows anything about Volker," Maurice said.

"A risk. Is the reward enough?" Tatani said.

"Maybe it is," Maurice replied.

Tatani's question had been rhetorical. It was not for Maurice to decide whether Tatani should undertake a transaction. Maurice sourced the opportunities, and settled them when Tatani dictated he do so. It was Tatani's money. It was his risk. It was his reputation on the line. And years of experience had taught Tatani never to deal with anyone with an unclear past. It was not necessary that Volker, the man who had approached Maurice with the deal, be clean, Tatani could work around that, but Tatani could not plan against the unknown.

But Volker was offering a substantial price, two million for a shipment of ice. Sure the quantity was large, but the drug, even the highest grade, was abundant, and Volker's price was at the top end. But there was a catch. Volker would pay up front with diamonds, and this commanded a premium. Not only would Tatani source and deliver the ice, he would also require a buyer for the diamonds. But Maurice knew several jewellers who would be interested in them. The sequence would see Tatani take possession of the diamonds, sell them, and use the funds to purchase and deliver the shipment of ice to Volker. The entire trade, after deducting the cost of the drugs would net Tatani close to a million; a substantial sum given the simple nature of the trade. But it was precisely this simplicity that made Tatani uncomfortable.

Another man entered the room. He was younger; in his mid-twenties. He wore a silk shirt tucked into expensive pants. A gold chain hung around his neck. He was cleanly shaven, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. He wrapped his arm around Maurice.

"Maurice you street urchin. You," the man recoiled in mock horror, "shit, geez Maurice, you washed yourself lately? You look and smell like shit."

"I have little time to wash," Maurice retorted, "and even less time to shop and dress like a dick."

"Screw you Maurice."

Tatani held up his hand.

"Simon. Show some respect for the man and the situation."

Simon smiled curtly. He was Tatani's only son.

"Why diamonds Maurice?" Tatani continued, "why the generous price? And why me?"

"He always deals in diamonds," Maurice said, "that's all I could gather. And he believes the sum of two million is fair. And why you – well I quote him – 'your reputation proceeds you.'"

The compliment meant little to Tatani. Words were cheap in his business. His biggest compliment was remaining alive.

"Karl," Tatani said, "your thoughts?"

"We need to check him out," Karl said, "if we put some men on him then we might satisfy ourselves."

"Bullshit, Karl. The bastard is paying two million," Simon cut in, "screw the surveillance. We tell him we will cut his tongue out if he is a rat. And he will behave. We go for the money."

Tatani shook his head. Things were simple to Simon. Money and power had come to him too easily. Money got him the clothes and luxuries he flaunted. Power made him loose. He was young, and considered risk through a different lens. Risk, for Tatani, meant death or imprisonment. Risk to Simon, was an irrelevant obstacle to achieving something.

"Karl is right," Tatani said, "we check Volker out. We learn about him before we deal with him."

Simon shrugged dismissively.

Tatani glanced at Maurice. "Tell Volker we are interested."

Maurice held up his hands. "There is one more thing."

"What?"

"He won't start anything unless he meets you."

"What the hell Maurice," Simon interrupted, "what is this, a parent teacher interview? Tell him to piss off. He knows who we are. Everyone knows who we are."

Tatani patted the air. "Easy Simon."

Tatani saw a lot of himself in Simon; impulsiveness and a sense of invincibility. Privilege may have shaped some of the traits, but many had been hereditary. Tatani had once suffered the same flaws. But experience had made him cautious. He always kept his hands clean. He paid others to get their hands dirty for him. But Volker's sum was significant, and the risk could be managed.

"When?"

An hour later Tatani, with Karl and the Pitbull, arrived at Kinsella's Bar in the Valley. The bar was built below the level of the street at the base of a black painted building. A pink neon light blinked over the front door. Tatani descended the stairs, waited for the Pitbull to open the door, and then stepped inside.

Tatani paused allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The place was empty except for three men sitting at a table in the far corner. Tatani assessed the men, young and dressed in suits; not a threat. He moved to the bar. The owner nodded in acknowledgment, and poured a half glass of scotch. Tatani took the drink, dropped a fifty on the bar, and started down a thin corridor that branched out from the main bar area. Off to the right were a series of private rooms, each with a pool table, and several stools. The first two rooms were empty. At the third Tatani found his men engaged in a game. They stopped when he entered.

These men were Tatani's inner circle. Tatani had other men who did things for him, but they were paid by the job as contractors. The men with him now were a tight and dependable unit. They had been together for a decade; upholding Tatani's reputation on the street. The group had numbered twelve until the two men had been killed in the altercation with Luka in the Docklands.

Simon had been part of the Docklands deal and Tatani had learnt from him how the deal had gone to plan until out of nowhere a bunch of shooters had opened fire on their get-away car. The shooters had known exactly where to find the car. Simon had climbed over the bodies of Tatani's men, and escaped through the shattered passenger-side window.

Having eliminated Luka, Tatani had hired Raven, one of his contracted mercenaries, a man unknown to Tatani's inner circle, to look into what really happened in the Docklands bloodbath. A shrewd and discreet operator, Raven had ways of finding out the truth that Tatani did not. Tatani had met with Raven several times in the past and each time he had been unnerved by Raven's cold and focused manner. When paid the right amount of money, Raven honoured his obligations, regardless of the body count along the way.

Tatani leant against the pool table and addressed his men.

"In minutes Maurice will arrive. He has identified an opportunity. I won't elaborate, but it involves a stash, and some expensive stones."

The men listened intently.

"The risk to us is the buyer. Volker. Anyone heard of him?"

The men muttered, but no one offered information.

Simon said: "Sounds like some German car manufacturer. 'Get behind the wheel of a Volker, it's top shizer'."

The men laughed.

"He's joining us shortly," Tatani interrupted.

"Bastard wants to meet his new masters," Simon said.

"Dangerous," one of the men said.

"He might be police."

"Maybe," Tatani countered, "but we'll check him for wires."

There was a knock at the door. The Pitbull opened it, and let Frank and Maurice in. Frank was a big man with a bald head; one of Tatani's hired helpers. He was an effective but unstable individual. Tatani knew about Frank's private life; his lust for younger women, and his unhealthy interest in human torture, and Tatani knew that together, the two interests were an ominous combination.

Maurice said: "Volker will be here in five. We ready?"

"I want two of ours guarding the outside," Tatani ordered, "two knocks when he gets here."

Frank and another man left the room. Tatani told his men to continue their game of pool.

"You can move the stones?" Tatani asked Maurice.

Maurice nodded. "Yes I have a jeweler in mind. I..."

Two knocks on the door. The men spread out around the room as Frank stuck his head in.

"He's here."

"Pat him down and let him in," Tatani ordered.

A moment later a thin man wearing a black overcoat entered the room. Behind him were two thickly set men wearing dark jeans and jackets. Tatani noted the weapons bulging under their jackets and held up his hand.

"Uh uh, just you," he said pointing at the man in the overcoat, "the other two wait outside. Two of yours and two of mine. They can get acquainted."

The man waved his men back. "It's alright."

The men left and for a moment no one spoke. The face of the man who remained was lined, but it maintained a certain vitality, as if the weathered features were really a mask. If the numbers in the room concerned him he did not show it.

His eyes settled on Tatani. "Safety in numbers?"

"You are Volker?" Tatani asked.

"No, my name is Leroy, I merely work for the man. Volker's policy is not to meet with his counter-parties."

"Bastard," Simon said, "he arranges to meet us and doesn't show. Sends some weak piece of shit in his place. We should mail you to him in a box."

Leroy smiled. "The likeness, physically, to your father, is striking. But there it ends. I hope you develop the wits to out-live him."

Tatani cut Simon off before he could respond.

"This meeting was not required," Tatani said, controlling his anger. Volker had played him along, sending this posh talking arsehole in his place.

Leroy shrugged. "Mr Volker thought it sensible given he is placing two million worth of diamonds at risk. That entitles him to certain liberties – yes?"

Tatani said: "We've met. You know I exist. Piss off."

Leroy held up his hands in mock apology.

"A lot of trouble for such a brief meeting. But as you wish."

Leroy made to leave, then stopped and said: "There is one thing. If you fail Volker, if you renege on this arrangement, he will punish you."

Leroy's features tightened for an instant before he grinned, as if the threat were the result of some great misunderstanding.

Tatani hissed: "You come here and threaten me. I could kill you now. Cut you and feed you alive to my pigs."

"Ah yes the pigs," Leroy smiled, "I've heard about them. Did they enjoy Luka?"

He dipped his head and left.

Leroy stood outside Kinsella's with his men. The meeting had gone well.

"Alright," he said, "now that gerbil he uses to co-ordinate things will call us and agree terms. But Volker needs a transport for the diamonds. The usual type, someone desperate and unattached to us. Find that someone for me."

Chapter 3

It was eight o'clock Wednesday night and Stu was dressing in his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a blue Fuzz t-shirt, and sat on the bed to tie his Nike trainers. Lara yelled at him from the other end of the bed.

"This is bullshit. Your mates are a bunch of sponges. Drugged out nobodies. And you're the biggest sponge of all."

Lara had the sheets pulled up to her chin, and was naked underneath. Her cheeks were bright red. Anger, Stu mused, or was she flushed from the sex they had just had.

"And you can talk," Stu said, "you work in a pub during the day. Get your kit off in a titty bar in the night. Then you try to make it all noble by studying some bullshit Arts degree."

"Better than dealing drugs. And better than hanging with a bunch of useless potheads. You hang with them and you become them. How long have you been doing it for and how much money have you got? Nothing."

It always amazed Stu how quickly things changed between them. Five minutes ago they had been making love, now he wanted her to disappear. Why? Maybe she cut too close to the truth. She was right. He dealt drugs. He hung out with guys who took drugs. He was broke. And he had, unknown to her, burnt three thousand dollars on a single game of blackjack. He was as reckless and useless as she said.

"You hide behind your drugs because you can't achieve anything," she said, "you're scared to achieve anything, in case you fail."

"And getting topless behind a bar is achieving."

Stu knew how to hurt her. He could pick at the pieces of her life that she despised. And once he started he found it difficult to stop. They were a volatile couple; madly in love, but ready to drag each other through the mud.

"Did your boss ask for a freebie last night, or was it a co-worker's turn?"

"You bastard. Screw you."

"No. I believe you save that for your customers," Stu retorted.

Lara went quiet, and Stu stood watching her. The words had felt right exiting his mouth, but now that they were out, they left him empty. Lara had her back to him and the butterfly tattoo at the base of her neck was visible beneath her brown bobbed hair. She swiped at her cheek. All at once Stu wanted to take the words back. It was always like this. He loved her one moment and hurt her the next. Loving and hurting, in a ceaseless circle. For some reason he enjoyed destroying the one relationship that had ever mattered to him.

The lights from the street illuminated one side of Lara's face, and left the other in shadow. She was the most beautiful girl Stu had been with.

She was the daughter of a Vietnamese mother and Swedish father, and the unique gene pool had produced a striking blend of features. Dark hair, which she cut just above her shoulders and dyed the ends a purple that showed only in direct light. She had a small nose and full lips, brown skin and wide green eyes that carried the angular shape of her Asian heritage. She could have been a model, but she did not care for paper-thin beauty. She had several piercings; ears, belly-ring, and a tongue stud which she wore intermittently, depending on the occasion. And the butterfly on her neck completed the visual package that was Lara.

Stu knew she was better than him. Maybe that was why he tore at her so deeply. Lara tried to get somewhere. She studied hard at her Arts degree, and worked long hours to pay for it. But she was also a risk taker. She despised normality and repetition. She loved the crazy paths that life presented. And that was why she was with him.

"You alright?" Stu asked.

"Screw you," Lara snapped.

Stu skirted the bed and faced her.

She looked at him, eyes blazing. "Get out. Just get out."

Stu knelt in front of her. She was sitting with her legs over the edge of the bed, and she tried to kick him. He rocked back, and the foot flashed past his face. She kicked again, and this time caught him on the side of the head. He rolled over several times, clutching his face, bouncing off the wall and writhing on the floor, like a footballer trying to win a penalty. He eventually peered out from beneath his hands.

She shook her head.

"No. You're an arsehole. A bastard arsehole."

She stood up and kicked him again, this time in the stomach, hard enough to have him curl up, and repeat his footballing theatrics. Lara followed him, naked, her body thin and luminous in the half light, as she tried to kick him. Stu dodged the blows, and in time, she was laughing too hard to get a good aim. Stu grabbed her. She fought against him, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"No. You don't deserve me, you shit. You're an arsehole."

Stu held on, and in time she relented, and they fell together on to the floor, lying side-by-side, their faces close. And Stu realised then, looking into her eyes, why he was with her, and why he had to get them enough money to get out of this terrible life that they lived.

He kissed her and held her tight, her breasts pressed against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and looked at him.

"Why do we do this to each other?"

"Do what?" Stu asked.

"Drag each other down. Treat each other like shit."

"It's more fun than being nice."

They were silent, looking at each other.

"You don't need to do what you are doing anymore," Lara said.

"Yes I do."

"Is anyone coming for you? Have you pissed anyone off?"

She was constantly worrying about him.

"Nobody I can't handle."

"They could hurt you?"

"Maybe," Stu said, "but not if they know they've got a deranged girlfriend to contend with next."

She giggled and put her forehead against his, so that her eyes became a single green globe.

"Please Stu. Promise me you won't do anymore of what you've been doing. No more illegal stuff. Deano was talking about something today at the pub. Whatever it is, don't do it. We don't need that anymore. You're smart. You can be something."

Stu brushed the hair back from her forehead.

"One day I'm going to get us out of this."

He kissed her, and then got up, straightening his t-shirt.

"I got to go. Boys are waiting."

"Boys. Boys. Boys. What about me?"

He assessed her naked body as she lay on the ground looking up at him. They had been together long enough that being naked was comfortable.

"What about you?" he asked, then he scooped her up, and tossed her on to the bed.

"Romantic," she said, then added seductively, "sure you don't want to stay? Plenty more of what you just got."

"What? The kicks to the head? I'm out of here."

He blew her a kiss and left.

Stu took the elevator to the ground floor, and stepped into the hot night.

"It's bullshit," Stu said.

Stu was in an apartment with stained white walls and dim lights. Grey smoke from a joint that was being passed around clung to the ceiling. There was a sliding glass door on one wall that led out to a balcony and a view of not much at all. A television was playing a re-run of a South Park episode with the sound down. Four other lads sat in sofa chairs that had been picked up off the street.

"Jeez – relax," Abe said, "what's with the stress?"

Abe was well over six feet tall, and was thickly built; a giant. Abe's huge frame was imposing enough that his strength rarely had to be tested.

Stu had just listened to Deano lay out his scheme, and he did not like it. Deano was a thin, drug addicted leech. He managed the pub where Lara worked during the days; the one where she kept her clothes on.

"Too much risk," Stu said, "stealing a car to get a small stash. It's trouble."

"Trouble," Chris giggled taking a long drag on the joint before passing it on to Abe.

Chris had dark hair that fell over his eyes. He was of average height and build, but Stu had seen enough of Chris to know that the common exterior belied a rage within.

"Doesn't sound half bad to me," James said.

"You don't know shit," Stu said, "you stay out of this."

James rarely thought up any of their schemes, and only went along with them because he feared being left out. His view on the matter was not important.

The five had met at a boarding school in Brisbane, six years ago. With the exception of Abe, no one had remained with further study. Abe, however, had completed two years of a drama degree at the Institute of Fine Arts. He had talent. His teachers had advised him that with a little polish, his large build might secure him some parts. But drama studies did not pay well so Abe, like the others, was forced to hold down part time employment. And part-time employment paid only slightly more than the dole. So the group had supplemented their meagre wages with various petty schemes; selling pirated DVDs, CDs, electronic goods and clothes, while supporting Stu's drug distribution network. And it was precisely one of these schemes that Deano had brought to them tonight.

"It's piss easy," Deano persisted, "and it is the perfect opportunity to do Will Dacey over. God knows we owe him."

The scheme Deano had revealed to them was a fabricated version of a scheme that two men had disclosed to him last night. But to make the fabricated scheme work he needed his mates to help him. Abe, Chris and James had embraced his scheme, but Stu was holding back. And Stu was critical. Stu was the unofficial leader of the group. Stu was smart and good at making things work.

"Stealing a car to get a small stash," Stu said, "we got a thousand better things to do."

"It's the message," Chris said, "it will hit Dacey hard – embarrass him. And with Abe's masks we'll be unidentifiable."

"I'm not challenging the message. I'm challenging the method," Stu countered, "the car park will be full of people. There will be security cameras and security staff. Have any of you considered this?"

"It'll be easy," Deano persisted as he handed around fresh beers, "I leave the van and then you take it. Simple. No time for anyone to see."

The plan Deano had relayed to the lads was very simple. Will Dacey was the chief competitor to their ongoing drugs racket. Dacey was running low on certain stocks, and he had come to Deano for more. Terms had been struck, and Deano was to take the drugs to a van in the Westfield shopping centre car park. Two of Dacey's mates would appraise the stash inside the van. After Deano, and the two men left the van, the others would take the van before Dacey got to it.

The entire plan was a sham. Will Dacey was not involved, and there were no drugs. The reality was vastly different. It consisted of the following. Last night two men had approached Deano at closing time in the pub he managed, and offered him a pile of money to act as a courier. Short of cash, Deano had accepted. The men had leveled with him. They told him that he would transport a quantity of diamonds from a jeweler on Hindmarsh Street to a van in the Westfield shopping centre car park where he would remain until two men had appraised the diamonds. Having heard the scheme Deano's co-operation was a given. If he reneged or ran, the men promised to track him down, and kill him, slowly. Deano had hurried home, took a hit of cocaine, and conjured up a scheme, and the covering ruse he had just now shared with his mates.

"Five minutes," Deano emphasised, "that's your window. And Dacey won't be able to identify you with the masks."

"They'll be skin tight," Abe said, "we'll all look completely normal. People use these masks in shows all the time."

Chris laughed. "Disguises. Stu, why you going to sit this out like a weed?"

Stu was at the screen door looking outside. He knew where he stood with these guys. He had always maintained a position of authority with them, even at school. He held this position, not due to his physical strength where he was second only to Abe, but by his ability to make things work. It had never been stated outright, but his opinion always carried more weight than any of theirs. Stu's opinion mattered, therefore they were keeping at him. But right now, Stu believed it was his responsibility to keep them out of trouble. Something about Deano's scheme was not right.

"Why would Dacey buy from you Deano?" he asked.

Deano shrugged.

"Don't know. He's desperately short on stocks – got orders to fill."

"What does it matter?" Abe said.

"Don't worry about him, he's soft. Piss weak," Chris said.

"Screw you Chris," Stu said, "I'm trying to keep all your arses from getting arrested. And you want me in. If you didn't you wouldn't have asked me. So drop your trash talk."

Stu often wished that Chris would disappear. There was something about Chris that made Stu wary. Not that Chris would backstab him, it was more Chris' instability. Chris was prone to bouts of violence, frenzied bursts of madness that arose in an instant, and passed just as quickly. He could be talking candidly to someone in a pub, and in the next instant he could be ramming their head into the wall. Chris was a very volatile individual, and likely to totally implode, and when that happened, Stu did not want to be around.

"The kicker," Deano said, "is that this will net us each five grand."

Stu stopped pacing. Five thousand, to replace the three thousand he burnt at the casino. And this time he'd avoid the casino and buy two tickets overseas. Get to the other side of the world, beyond the reach of the bastards that were leaning on him. Get Lara out of her shithouse job at the Northern. Make their dream of a new life a reality.

"Now Stu, you got to get a piece of that," Chris said, "or," he turned to Abe and Deano, "forget him. We do it ourselves and we share his cut."

"Stu?" Abe persisted.

"What do you think Stu?" Deano prodded.

"Screw him," Chris rasped.

Stu stared out the sliding glass doors. He considered all that Deano had said, and rearranged the sequence in his mind. He isolated the risky aspects, and replaced them with safer variations. He wanted to do this scheme, for the money and, for Lara. But he also wanted to do it, because of that foolish part of him that always led him to do things like this.

"Money is not worth shit when your arse has been arrested," Stu said.

"Then how do we do it?" Abe probed.

Stu shut the sliding glass door.

"First. You stop advertising it to the neighbourhood. And then you work it like this."

Leroy pressed the phone close to his ear and listened.

"This kid. You sure he'll pull through?"

"Yes Mr Volker. He's as desperate and vulnerable as all the others. He'll do it."

"And how much did you tell him about things?" Volker asked.

"As much as we always tell them."

"Good."

Leroy had called Volker's mobile from a public phone. Leroy had worked for Volker for several years, and had never met the man. But Leroy understood Volker's method of enlisting strangers to act as couriers for his deals. With the right amount of pressure they always did as they were told, and if the police nabbed them they knew nothing other than Volker's name. And what was a name without a face. And by telling the couriers what they were carrying, it stopped them getting distracted, and kept them focused on getting the goods from point A to point B.

Their latest recruit was ideal. Young, poor, and drug addicted.

"The deal is in order with Tatani?"

"Yes."

"Good Leroy. We speak again when it is over. Payment in the usual account."

Lara knew the men were trouble when they entered the pub. It was late afternoon and the after-work crowd had not yet arrived.

The men looked her up and down. Lara was used to worse. Men were so stupid she thought, always wanting to get inside your pants, but behaving in precisely the way that would keep them out.

"Sweetheart," one of them said, "you alone?"

"What does it matter?"

The man who had spoken laughed.

"Could matter a shitload for you gorgeous."

Lara moved to the other end of the bar and started stacking glasses. At that moment Deano returned from the rear storeroom. Lara saw the fear in his features when he spotted the men.

"Come here, Deano," one of the men said.

Deano approached them and said: "Why are you here?"

One of the men set his hands flat on top of the bar. A row of ugly steel rings lined his knuckles. Deano's face paled.

"Just checking you are still with us Deano."

"I I I am. I'm still in."

"Good," the man said twiddling his ringed fingers, "you know what these can do to a man's face? Don't screw with us. And if anyone asks who you are working for, you say Volker. You spread his name around. He's the king now. He's taking over. You work for him now Deano. But pray you don't ever meet him."

The man glanced in Lara's direction.

"That your girlfriend?"

Deano shook his head.

"Pity. She looks like fun."

The man approached Lara. She held her ground aware that he would have to come over the bar to get at her.

"Show me some flesh gorgeous," he said.

"Screw you."

"Please do."

Lara said: "No you don't understand. I meant your mate there wants to screw you. He's been checking out your arse since you arrived. Go on, ask him."

The man set his hands on the bar as if he was coming over it, but his mate pulled him back.

"Forget her. She's just some girl."

Sensing trouble, the other patrons in the pub were watching now, considering whether to step in.

"You be careful sweetheart," the man said, and then to Deano, "and you stick with the script Deano or these'll be kissing you."

The man rippled his ringed fingers again, and then left.

Lara glared at Deano.

"What are you into Deano? Is Stu in it with you?"

Chapter 4

Two days later.

Deano moved quickly, weaving through the afternoon pedestrian traffic on Stamford Street. Five minutes ago he had entered a jewellery store. As instructed he asked the owner if he might try on the nine carat gold necklace with the cross. The owner asked him if he was in the industry. Deano replied in the positive. Then the owner handed him a small pouch with a gold tie. Deano knew it was the diamonds the men had told him about and he shoved them in the pocket of his tracksuit top.

Deano presently entered the fire stairs of the Westfield shopping centre parking station. His footsteps rung in the confined space as he climbed the stairs. He turned, hearing someone on the stairs behind him, but there was no one there. Three floors up he exited the stairwell, and entered the car park proper. He located row N and started down it.

The van was parked up ahead. It was light blue, with a side sliding door, and a pair of open out rear doors.

Tatani's men were positioned in pairs, at various points in and around the car park. They had watched Deano all the way from the jewellery store. The Pitbull and one other had just seen him enter the van.

Unknown to Tatani's men, Leroy, looking after Volker's interests, also had hired eyes inside the car park. They too had seen the kid enter the van, and were waiting for him to exit again.

Back at the jewellery shop, the owner was locking his display cabinets, preparing to close early for the day. He had just made more than his weekly earnings in the space of a thirty second transaction. All he had to do was wait for the money to come in. And the money always came in. Mr Volker always paid; never in person, but he always paid. And so did all the other individuals that the owner had been providing similar services to.

The front door opened jingling the chimes above its frame. A man dressed in a black coat stepped into the store.

"I is closed – yeah," the owner said with a chuckle, believing the man was here to pay him.

The man approached the counter, and surveyed the jewels beneath the glass. The gun materialised in an instant. A black berretta 8 calibre, with a thin 8 inch silencer screwed to its end. The store owner shrunk back against the wall.

"No mister. No shooting me. I innocent man. Who – who – are you?" But amid his horror, the owner deciphered the truth. "You Mr Volker?"

"Yes I am," the pistol bucked and a red dot appeared in the owner's forehead, as he was thrown back against the wall, a red stain tracking his path as he slid to the floor. The shooter did not have time to savour his work, as the front door chimes rattled. He whirled around, and saw a girl; early twenties, dark hair, eyes wide with shock, staring at him.

The man took a shot at her as she ran out the door. The bullet punched a hole in the wooden doorframe. The man pursued her outside but the footpath was crowded in the afternoon rush hour. He watched her weaving between the people, her hair blowing out behind her, running toward the Westfield car park.

The man stepped quickly back into the store. The store owner had had it coming to him. Volker could not let the man to turn what was an exclusive arrangement into an open business, but Volker knew he should have come in disguise. The owner had seen his face – the owner was dead. The girl had seen his face – maybe heard his name – she should be dead also, but she was out there running.

And that was it, why was she running? Why wouldn't she enter another store? Call the police? Seek comfort in human contact, or scream for help? The man placed a call on his mobile, and one of Leroy's watchers in the car park answered.

"Yes?"

"This is Volker. A girl. Distressed. Brown hair. Twenty-something. White top and jeans. She's coming your way. She knows something is happening. I want her. Alive. Dead. It does not matter."

"Yes Mr Volker."

"Where'd he go?"

"He's inside. Went in through the side door."

Stu was inside Abe's car several rows back from the van Deano had entered. Abe and Chris were in the front seat, and James was with Stu in the back. The masks they wore had aged them instantly.

Stu sensed the tension in the group. Talking about the plan had been easy. Actioning it was a different story altogether. But Stu remained alert. It was important he remained in control because the others were likely to lose their heads and blow it.

"What do we do?" James asked.

"Exactly as we talked about," Stu said, "nothing has changed."

But sitting and waiting, Stu experienced a mounting unease. There were other people watching. He could not see them but he sensed them.

It was dark inside the van; only a faint glow of sunlight penetrated the front windscreen. The rear of the van was metal, corrugated on the floor but sheer on the ceiling and walls. A small upturned wooden crate sat in the centre of the floor between two men.

The men were hunched over because of the low ceiling. One was tall and lean, and the other short and stocky. Both were aged in their mid-forties, and sweating from the heat inside the van. One of them took a miniature lamp from his pocket and set it on the crate. He extended its thin metallic head, and switched it on. The light was exceptionally bright for such a small globe. He laid a black handkerchief beneath the light.

"Come on let's have them," he said.

Deano pulled the pouch from his pocket. The men did not move to take it from him. They stood back and waited for him to tip the diamonds onto the handkerchief. The light caught on the ten stones, and threw out all the colours of the rainbow.

These two men were jewellers. One sourced by Volker and the other by Tatani. They were not enemies, but engaged by two competing parties. Both men produced jeweller's loupe magnifying lenses and placed them over their eyes. Then they crouched beside the crate and got their callipers out, and set about appraising the diamonds.

The men picked up each diamond in turn, twisting it over and viewing it from different angles. They looked for minute flaws; tiny black inclusions, errors in the cutting, or smudges in the clarity. They had been advised that the stones would be IF, internally flawless when viewed under 10x magnification, perfect in colour, and with weights ranging from 5 to 6 carats. Perfect stones.

When the appraisal was finished, the men left the diamonds on the handkerchief, and stepped back from the crate.

The first man motioned to Deano. "Do whatever you've been told to do with them."

Deano's orders about what to do next had been explicit. He replaced the diamonds in the pouch and tied it securely, keeping his hands completely in view of both men as he did. Then he knelt behind the front passenger seat. There was a mat beneath the seat, and he raised it and found that the steel floor had been cut. Deano placed the pouch in the hole, and replaced the metal covering and mat. When Deano had finished, and showed them his empty hands, the tall man got his mobile out and made a call.

"They are in order."

He hung up and the second man placed a similar call. Then they turned to Deano.

"Well that's it my friend. Relax. We're not about to shoot you. Someone else might, but not us."

They exited the van. Once outside the three went in separate directions.

Lara was in shock. She had never seen anyone shot other than on television. The gun had made very little noise, just a pfff sound. But the shop owner had been thrown back against the wall. And then the man had shot at her. Adrenalin charged through her as she wove through the people on the footpath. All these people, all these faces, oblivious to her fear. But she was not afraid for herself, she was afraid for Stu. And she knew where to find him.

Unable to help himself, Deano had told Lara snippets about his plan throughout the week. And when Deano had left work at the bar an hour early Lara had ditched her shift and followed him. She had entered the jewellery store on an impulse, to see what she might learn. And she knew now that Stu had got mixed up in something very dangerous.

Lara sprinted up the car park stairs and burst out on the first level of the car park. She scanned the area looking for any sign of Deano or the others. A car screeched to her right. Two women glanced at her, intrigued by her distress. She re-entered the stairs and emerged on level two.

Stu. Please Stu. Don't be with them. A man is dead. Stu. Please.

She forced herself to focus, scanning the rows of cars for any sign of movement. A group of shoppers passed her. Lara took to the stairs again, dialling on her mobile as she ascended. Two rings. Three. Four.

"Stu. Baby. Please pick up. Stu. Answer the phone."

She burst out on to level three.

Things happened very quickly after Deano exited the van.

"Go. Go. Go," Stu shouted.

They left their car and bolted to the van. Abe found the driver's side door unlocked. He climbed in behind the wheel as the others piled in through the passenger side door. The front was a single bench seat wide enough to fit all of them. Abe failed to find any keys in or around the ignition, so he got to work with a screwdriver. He unscrewed the metal facing beneath the steering column, exposing the wires beneath. He had hot-wired countless cars before, but these wires were different.

"Come on," Stu urged.

Stu scanned the mirror for any movement behind them. Shoppers walked here and there, cars came and went. And that was the problem. There was too much movement, it was impossible to pick out the unusual from the usual. His mobile buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.

Lara – what? I can't talk to you right now

He put the phone down and studied the rear-view mirror.

"Abe you big dopey bastard, get this thing started," Chris shouted.

Abe fumbled with the wires. "They're not normal. They're not bloody normal."

Abe suddenly brought the right wires together and the engine kicked into life. The van was a column shift automatic, and the big man found reverse and backed the van out of the parking space. He swung around and floored it, the van's tyres screeching against the cement as he raced through the car park, following the signs to the exit. In half a minute he was down the ramp and out on to the street.

Relief and excitement poured out of them. They laughed and hooted. Distracted they failed to notice the black Celica that had followed them out of the car park.

The Pitbull and his companion were taken by surprise.

The Pitbull had been preparing to approach the van when all of a sudden the van was moving. He had seen a group of men approach it, but he had believed that they were merely passing between the parked cars to get to the shopping centre entrance. But the men had stolen it. And simultaneously a girl had burst out of the stairwell running toward the scene, calling out to the van.

The Pitbull's companion started their car to give chase, but the Pitbull pulled the handbrake. He burst out of the car and grabbed the girl from behind. One hand around her mouth, cutting off her screams, the other around her waist dragging her back to the car. She kicked and butted her head, fighting viciously despite her slight frame, but the Pitbull absorbed the blows, and wrestled her inside the back seat.

The Pitbull pinned the girl down and reached for a roll of duct tape under the front seat. He wrapped it around her mouth, then flipped her on to her stomach, and bound her wrists together.

The Pitbull called Tatani on his mobile as they exited the car park, following the van.

Stu watched the buildings rush by. In time they made it out of the city, and the tall office buildings gave way to warehouses and residential estates.

"How easy was that?" Abe said. Abe had the window down, and his elbow hanging over the sill.

"Piece of piss," Chris said.

The scenery changed to large sections of bush reserve. There were fewer cars on the streets, and they seldom passed any people. Stu had arranged for them to meet Deano halfway along an unused fire trail that led into the bush.

Sitting near the window Stu studied the rear view mirror. There was a black car behind. He had noticed it behind them as far back as the city. Sometimes it had come close, sometimes it remained further back.

One of Dacey's friends? The police?

Stu had thought to tell the others about the car, but he did not want to alarm them. Abe did not function well under pressure, and was liable to screw up.

Stu closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. When he opened his eyes and looked in the mirror again the car was gone. The road behind them was empty.

Pitbull spoke into his mobile.

"We got a problem. Some bastards just stole the van."

"What?" Tatani snapped.

"Men. Four of them. Just took it. A girl arrived late on the scene. Don't know if it's an accident or co-incidence or what."

"It's not a co-incidence Pitbull. You got the girl and you're after the van?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now hold back and follow the van from a distance. Let them lead you wherever they're going. The diamonds are our risk now. We exchanged. If Volker has put these pricks up to it I want to know. When they stop, call in their position. I'll get Karl and another over to help you make your move. I want them alive."

Tatani hung up his mobile. He was sitting in his living room staring at the dead animals on the walls. The Pitbull's news was not good. And Maurice had also called, advising him that Volker knew what had happened, and that the diamonds were at Tatani's risk. Somehow some bastard had cut Tatani's grass.

Volker. You slimy bastard.

But Tatani had a plan to get things back in control. Karl would co-ordinate the chase and whoever had taken the van would be caught.

And if Volker was behind it, he would suffer.

Karl brought the car to a stop on the dirt track, and got out. The Pitbull and the four re-enforcements Tatani had assigned to the chase got out of the car behind. The van they were pursuing, and another car, a blue Pintara, had turned off the freeway, and started down this same dirt track. The van was visible five hundred metres ahead on the track.

"Get back in your cars. We're going in," Karl ordered.

"Where is he?" Stu said.

They had parked the van at the base of a dip in the dirt track. The trees were thick on both sides of the road. The bush was still and silent. They had agreed to take the van to precisely this location. Deano was supposed to have been waiting.

Comfortable that they were out of trouble they had removed their masks.

"Stuff him. I'm not waiting, let's see what we got in here," Chris said.

Chris opened the rear doors of the van. The cabin was empty except for a crate that had been tumbling around as they drove. Chris picked up the crate, and turned it over. It was empty.

"Nothing!"

Chris stepped down from the cabin.

"Bastard son of a bitch got his news wrong."

"We take the right van?" Abe asked.

"Yes," Stu said, "we saw Deano leave it."

"Druggo bastard screwed up," Chris said, "he was hallucinating."

The noise of a car distracted them. They turned and saw Deano's blue Pintara streaking down the dirt track toward them. Deano fishtailed the car to a stop.

"I told you to wait until I got here before opening it up," Deano said.

Stu stepped forward.

"Well we couldn't help ourselves arsehole. But it's empty. Where's the stash?"

Deano stepped past him, and entered the cabin. He got down on his hands and knees, and felt under the passenger seat.

"What are you doing?" Stu said.

Metal grated as Deano removed a piece of the floor under the front passenger seat. He emerged from the cabin, limping slightly, and carrying a small sack.

"Where's the stash Deano?" Abe asked.

"This," Deano said, holding up the tiny sack, "is what we came for. Far better than any piss weak stash."

Deano untied the string and up ended the sack. Stu watched as ten diamonds spilled into Deano's hand, glimmering in the sunlight.

"What the hell?"

"Shit."

Deano jiggled them making them glimmer.

"Worth a million. Easy a million," Deano explained.

Stu had been dazzled by the diamonds, but Deano's words broke the spell. Awe gave way to dismay. A million dollars worth of diamonds didn't get misplaced as easy as that.

"Deano. You stupid bastard. What have you..."

Stu was cut short by the sound of car engines. He turned and saw two cars speeding down the dirt track toward them. Stu rushed with the others into the trees, as the cars skidded to a stop.

Stu made it halfway down a slope before a man tackled him. He wrestled with his attacker landing several hits, and had the upper hand for a moment. But when one of his punches missed, the man grabbed him by the hair, and smashed him face first into the ground. The blow stunned him, and before he regained his bearings Stu's hands were tied behind his back. He was dragged back up the slope, and dumped beside James and Chris, who were similarly bound.

From the ground, Stu watched Abe's final stand. The big man was pinned against the van. He had two men on him, but was still on his feet. The men had his arms, but Abe got a boot into the stomach of one man making him double over, before lifting his knee into the man's face. The man fell back, blood spilling from his mouth. Stu felt a wave of elation, and thought for an instant that Abe might save them all. But the bleeding man reached behind his back and drew a gun.

"No," a third man slapped the weapon away, "alive. We take them alive."

The three men piled in on Abe. Abe landed several hits, but suffered many more. The men forced him up against the van. Then one of the men shoved his head back against the metal side. Abe lost his bearings and the men punched him relentlessly in the face and body before he collapsed.

"There were five. Where's the fifth?" one of the men yelled.

"This one," a man said emerging from he bush with Deano's limp body draped over his shoulder.

"What did you do to him Pitbull? He looks dead."

"Just touched him. He's sleeping."

"The diamonds. Where are they?"

A man searched Stu's pockets, then James, before he pulled the pouch from Deano's jacket. He checked the diamonds were inside before dialling a number on his mobile.

"We got the diamonds. And the kids. Yeah, no shit, they're just kids. What do you want us to do with them... alright... will do."

The man hung up.

"Get them in the van. He wants to meet them."

Chapter 5

Darkness. The shed was small with a concrete floor. A wind was blowing outside, and the walls creaked. A faint trace of moonlight crept in through the cracks between the walls and ceiling. A deer head was mounted on one of the walls. A large metal table stood in the centre of the room; its legs bolted to the concrete floor. There were the sounds of farm animals outside. The room smelt of dry vegetation and rotten food.

Stu could not tell how many hours had passed since they had been caught. The men, whoever they were, had removed their watches. All Stu could tell was that it was dark outside: evening – midnight – early morning, it was impossible to say. It had been a long drive in the van. With his hands taped behind his back Stu had been thrown around with the others like tenpins. Eventually the van had stopped, and he had glimpsed a farm, and a house on a hill, before the men had dumped them in the shed. They had been gagged with duct tape. An iron clasp had been placed around each of their ankles, and they were chained to the metal table.

Earlier, communicating through grunts and groans, Stu had organised them to move in one direction, to try and shift the table. But the table did not move. Realising they were trapped, Stu stopped moving and tried to think.

Stu thought about what he had seen when they had been transferred from the van. A farm. They were on someone's farm. And farms were generally isolated. No one would hear them even if they could get their gags off and shout. Stu listened to the sounds outside. Pigs. He could hear pigs out there.

Bloody Deano.

Deano had told them they were ripping Will Dacey off a small stash of E's. But Stu was certain that the men that had captured them had no connection to Will Dacey. The men had been hard cases; one of them had pulled a gun. How could Deano have miscalculated so badly? But Deano had known about the diamonds in the van. A million dollars worth of diamonds.

If only Deano could talk now. But Deano was gagged and still unconscious from when the man with the scar had carried him out of the bush. For a period during the ride in the van Stu had thought that Deano was dead, but he had seen his chest moving.

Stu heard footsteps and voices outside. A key rattled in the lock, and the door opened. Three silhouettes; their features hidden with the moonlight behind them. One of the figures made for the light switch.

"No," another said with a European accent, "no light."

The men laid a long duffle bag on the floor, and set a metal case on the iron table, then shone a flashlight over Stu and the others.

"Young," the man with the torch said.

"Told you," another of the men replied. Stu recognised the voice. It belonged to the tall man that had apprehended them in the bush. That man had been in charge then, but he was not in charge anymore. The man with the torch was calling the shots now.

"It takes all types," the man with the torch replied, then nudged Deano with his boot, "what happened to this one?"

"Ran into a tree," the Pitbull said, "he was the one with the diamonds."

"Ah yes, the diamonds," the man with the torch said, playing the light over his prisoners, "diamonds. Diamonds. Diamonds. You got yourselves into this mess because of some diamonds?"

Stu watched the man carefully. Stu was gagged and chained but he was ready to fight if he had to.

"Inexperienced. Naive," the man with the torch remarked, "Pitbull, un-gag them."

The Pitbull ripped the duct tape from Stu's mouth before doing the same to the others.

"Alright," the man with the torch said, "Who were you working for?"

The man ran his light over each of their faces, but no one spoke. One of the men drew a knife.

"No Pitbull," the man with the torch waved him back, "not yet."

The Pitbull backed up, and then the flashlight was in Stu's eyes.

"What have you got to say?"

Stu turned away from the light. He did not know what to say. He knew nothing. The man moved along to James, then Abe, then Chris. No one spoke.

"I reckon the son of a bitch passed out at the end would talk. He looks weak as piss. How hard did you hit him Pitbull?"

"Just touched him Tatani."

A rush of adrenalin filled Stu's veins.

Tatani? What?

Stu was a fringe player in the drug distribution chain, well removed from the underworld, but he had heard about Tatani. Everyone had. The name was legend. Tatani the enforcer. Tatani the hunter. Tatani the executioner.

"So which one of you bastards is going to tell me who put you up to this?" Tatani asked, "don't make me turn to violence. Was it Volker?"

Still no one spoke. Stu racked his brain for something sensible to say. But there was no sense to all this madness.

"Pitbull here is just itching to stick his knife into one of you," Tatani continued, "and those animals you can hear out there are pigs. They're carnivorous. And they're hungry. Talk to me."

James spoke: "Our friend told us about it. Said we were stealing a stash of e's. Please don't hurt us. Please. Let us go. We won't tell anyone anything. We won't..."

One of the men punched James in the face slamming his head back against the metal wall.

"Pitbull. Please. He was just getting conversational. Now his mouth will hurt and he won't talk even if he wants to," Tatani said.

"Screw you."

The Pitbull and Tatani regarded Chris.

"Screw you," Chris repeated, "bastards."

The Pitbull went for Chris but Tatani held him back.

"No. Leave him. Let him speak, maybe he'll tell us something useful in between his trash talk."

Tatani caught Chris in the light of his torch.

"Screw you. You hit us when we're tied up and can't hit back. Piss weak."

Stu glared at Chris. He wanted to tell him to shut up, and not provoke these men. But Chris was crazy and would not back down.

"Free my hands, and then let's see how we go," Chris challenged.

Tatani laughed.

"He's a brave one. But he hasn't got much to tell. Maybe we feed him to the pigs first."

"Screw you."

"A broken record," Tatani said, "we've heard it before."

Stu watched as Tatani turned to Abe.

"You're a big son of a bitch aren't you? Must have taken some stopping. Tell me who put you up to this?"

Abe nodded in Deano's direction and said: "He said we were stealing Will Dacey's stash. He didn't say anything about diamonds."

"Will Dacey? Who is Will Dacey?"

"Drug dealer," Abe said.

"Screw you," Chris said.

Tatani clicked his fingers and the Pitbull punched Chris in the mouth. Chris groaned and fell sideways onto the concrete. The Pitbull stepped back rubbing his fist. Chris righted himself and spat at him. In a flash the point of the Pitbull's knife was a centimetre from Chris' eye.

"You want to play you little shit," The Pitbull said.

"Back up Pitbull," Tatani ordered.

The Pitbull kicked Chris in the stomach, and stepped back.

"Now," Tatani continued, crouching in front of Abe, "tell me again. This Will Dacey or whatever his name is; he is a drug dealer?"

Abe nodded.

"You know a Will Dacey?" Tatani looked at his men. They shook their heads.

Tatani focused on Abe again.

"So you think you're stealing someone's drugs but you end up with my diamonds. Now that's a likely bloody story."

Tatani straightened.

"I don't believe you."

"Please," James whined, "it's the truth."

Tatani laughed.

"The truth. I get a thousand versions of the truth from arseholes like you. I mention my pigs and the next thing you know everyone's got some truth to tell me. But I don't give a shit. The way I see it the only one with something half decent to tell me is that one over there. And right now he's in half a bloody coma and unlikely to wake up for days."

Tatani turned his back on them and said: "And I don't have the time to wait. Maybe this might help trigger your memories."

Tatani shone his flashlight on the bag the men had set on the floor, and unzipped it.

"No," Stu gasped.

Lara lay inside the bag. She had her eyes closed and was not moving.

"Don't worry – she is not dead – not yet anyway," Tatani said, "she is merely sedated. Understandably she was very panicked. We picked her up in the car park – same place you stole the van. I trust she means something to you. Sister. Friend. A weekly shag for one of you, or all of you? What was she doing in the car park at the time you were stealing my van?"

"Let her go. She doesn't know anything," Stu said.

Tatani caught Stu in his flashlight again.

"She knew enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," Tatani said and then smiled, "tell me what I want to know so my man here doesn't have to hurt her."

"You don't hurt her," Stu yelled, "or I will rip your face off."

Tatani smiled again.

"She couldn't know anything because we didn't know anything. She works with him, at the bar," Stu nodded in Deano's direction, "maybe he told her something. Keep me but let her go."

Tatani shook his head and placed his flashlight on the table.

"You, my friend, are in no position to be making demands."

"You touch her," Stu said, "and I swear I will kill you."

Tatani flicked the locks on the case on the table and lifted the lid. He extracted a large hypodermic syringe and a glass bottle.

"Etorphine," he explained as he filled the syringe, "animal tranquilizer. Two mils of this is enough to put a three hundred pound tiger to sleep. Pitbull. Karl. Please hold them still."

Stu watched as the Pitbull and Karl grabbed each of Chris' arms. Chris tried to draw away, but he was too slow. Tatani pressed the needle into his forearm. A moment later Chris slumped onto his side and lay still.

"Potent," Tatani mused as he moved along to James.

James edged away, "No. No. No."

The Pitbull and Karl grabbed him, and Tatani stuck him with the needle. James was out cold in seconds. Abe followed moments later.

"Now you," Tatani said turning to Stu, "you look the most sound of mind. Anything else you want to tell me? To save your girlfriend."

Stu's mind was swamped by what he had seen.

Tatani. Pigs. Drugs. Needles. Lara. How the hell had she got into this?

The tip of the needle approached. He tried to draw away but the men were too strong.

Stu felt the sting of the needle and the rush of cold liquid entering his arm. There was a moment of weightlessness. His eyes caught on Lara's body in the bag, fighting to keep her in focus, but he slumped over as his vision dissolved into blackness.

Tatani injected Deano with the liquid.

"Bastard doesn't look like he's waking up in a hurry but we got to be sure."

Then Tatani replaced the vial and syringe in the suitcase. He did not intend to inject the girl. He wanted her to wake up and tell him things. He had purposefully kept her away from the other prisoners, planning to interrogate her separately.

"The pigs then?" the Pitbull asked.

Tatani shook his head and said: "Not this time."

Chapter 6

The van Karl was driving arrived at a farm four hundred kilometres north west of Brisbane. It was six in the morning. The property was isolated; the nearest neighbour an hour to the west. Jordie, the owner of the homestead, stood on the front steps to meet them.

Jordie was one of Tatani's acquaintances. More a servant than a friend. Tatani had rescued him years ago from a dangerous situation, and Jordie had assumed a life-long debt in return. And Jordie was a handy servant. He owned a cargo helicopter, and made a living shuttling cargo for farmers in the area. But the service he offered Tatani was different. His property was on the outskirts of fine boar hunting ground and Tatani regularly enlisted Jordie to fly him into the outback, the virgin land accessible only to hunters with a chopper, for a few days hunting.

"Nice day for it," Jordie said, "a cup of coffee before we move?"

Karl ignored the question.

"Where's the chopper?"

"Around back."

The Pitbull yanked open the rear doors of the van, and dragged the lads out. They were still unconscious as he transported them down to the chopper. Jordie exhibited little emotion; Tatani paid him to fly and not ask questions.

"I'll get the keys," Jordie said.

The chopper's engines were a deafening roar through the metal fuselage. It was hot inside the cabin. Stu found it difficult to breathe. He couldn't see anything; just blackness and intermittent yellow, where the sunlight got under the base of his blindfold. He knew he was in a helicopter, but had no recollection of getting there. He remembered Tatani spiking him with a syringe, but nothing after that. His stomach rose as the chopper lost altitude.

"Oh shit. Hell. We're landing. They're going to kill us."

"Shut up Deano!" Stu yelled.

"They're going to kill us," Deano whined, "Oh shit – No."

The chopper banked and Stu was thrown across the cabin. He struck the metal wall, and came away tasting blood. Stu heard muffled voices in the cockpit, and he deciphered snippets of conversation about heat and the north-west and the outback.

Someone pounded on the metal divide between the cockpit and the rear hold.

"End of the road you bastards."

The chopper rocked sharply as the pilot put it down. A moment later the rear cabin door was thrown open. The first touch of the outside air was cold before the heat piled in behind it. The prisoners pressed back against the wall of the cabin.

"Welcome to Shitsville kids. Who wants it first?"

The Pitbull dragged them all out of the chopper and laid them on the ground. Their clothes and hair were whipped by the draft from the helicopter's rotors.

The chopper had landed on a raised rock outcrop in the outback. The location was far to the north-west of Brisbane. Red earth, dry and rocky, surrounded them. A row of mountains rose away to the east.

"Alright let's get the frag out of this heat," Karl said.

"No. Not yet," the Pitbull said.

The Pitbull had a word with Jordie, and the chopper's engines declined in pitch. The Pitbull jogged toward where the kids were scattered.

"No," Karl cut the Pitbull off, "drop them, give them the message, and leave. Those were Tatani's orders."

The Pitbull shook his head.

"One of these sons of bitches is going to bite it now."

"No," Karl said pushing the Pitbull back.

The Pitbull drew his gun and aimed it at Karl.

"Get out of my way."

"Alright," the Pitbull shouted, "who gets it first? Won't hurt. You won't even see it coming!"

The lads could not see the Pitbull, but they heard him, and tried to get away from him. Deano's whimpering attracted the Pitbull's attention and he stepped in Deano's path.

"Please. No. Ple..."

"Stop moving," the Pitbull commanded, "I can't shoot you when you're moving."

"Oh God no. No. No plea..."

The Pitbull kicked Deano in the ribs, and Deano doubled over, gasping for breath.

"I said don't move."

The Pitbull ripped the towel from Deano's eyes.

"Now that's better. You get to see the silver thing coming."

Karl watched the Pitbull. He knew better than to approach the Pitbull now. Earlier, before the Pitbull got worked up, maybe, but not now. If he tried to stop the Pitbull now he'd likely end up dead. And that was why Tatani loved the Pitbull. He would do anything. He had zero respect for human life. Karl had once seen the Pitbull saw three fingers off a man before forcing him to eat them under the threat of being shot. The man had chewed on the fingers and the Pitbull had lectured him about the importance of cleaning under his fingernails.

"No, no, no," the Pitbull said, "this is no good. You don't want to get shot. So you tell me which one of them gets it instead."

Deano shook his head.

"Alright, you then."

The Pitbull thrust the gun against Deano's head.

"No – n – ple..."

"Who then? Tell me. Him?"

The Pitbull pointed at Chris. Delirious with fear, Deano nodded.

"Nice!"

The Pitbull kicked Deano in the stomach, and strode over to Chris. Chris was kneeling, blindfolded, and unaware of the approaching danger. The Pitbull kneed him in the face, then lifted him by the hair. Blood crept out the corner of Chris' mouth.

"Your mate just put you up for execution. WHAT A GOOD BLOKE!"

The Pitbull steadied the elbow of his gun arm as he waited for Chris to squirm. He wanted to see fear.

"Screw you."

The Pitbull's eyes narrowed. Chris had challenged the Pitbull in the shed and refused to fear him. For the Pitbull, the battle was more personal with this kid than it was with the others.

"Ah, a tough son of a bitch. Death wish boy. I should have cut your eye out last night. But wait," the Pitbull fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, "you look like you need to cool off. And I've been bustin' for dead set ages."

The Pitbull urinated over Chris' face. He laughed, looking back at Karl, shouting: "He's thirsty Karl. Drink you piece of shit. Drink."

At that moment Jordie called out waving the radio handset from the cabin of the helicopter.

"It's Tatani. He wants to talk to you."

The Pitbull lingered for a moment, annoyed, like a kid caught in some bad act a moment before the satisfying climax. But the Pitbull would not test Tatani. He jogged back to the chopper and took the radio.

"Tatani?"

"Drop them and leave. That was the job."

"But Tatani..."

"Any of those kids get shot, I'll feed you to the bloody pigs Pitbull. Get out of there now. Over and out."

Karl gripped the Pitbull by the shoulder, spinning him toward the chopper.

"Get in. No more screwing around."

Then Karl marched back to the lads. Tatani had given him a message for them. Karl removed their blind-folds and held up his mobile phone.

"Watch."

A video of Lara appeared on the screen. She was dressed in the same white top and jeans that she had been wearing last night. Her mouth was gagged. Her right eye was bruised; her nose bloodied. She was sobbing as a bald man held her by the hair forcing her to look at the camera, as he pressed a knife to her throat. Fear was bursting from her eyes. Then the camera panned to the right, and Tatani appeared.

"She is beautiful. So unfortunate to have to blacken her eye. But how else do we teach her not to bite. I have stored her away. Some place where no one will hear her screams. I'll feed her for three weeks. After that, Frank here, might have some fun with her. And then she won't be much fun for anyone. Get out. Save yourselves. Save her. You have three weeks."

The camera panned back to Lara as Frank yanked her head back, and pressed the knife flush against her exposed neck. Then the vision dissolved.

"Son of a bitch, bastard," Stu lunged at the phone, but with his hands and feet bound, he landed face first in the dirt.

Karl laughed: "Save your energy. And go that way if you want to live."

He pointed to the mountains. Then he jogged back to the chopper and climbed into the cabin. As the rotor blades began to turn, Karl tossed four 1 litre plastic bottles of water and two loaves of bread out of the open window.

Then the chopper was gone, becoming a black dot in the distant sky.

Chapter 7

"Where the frag are we?"

Abe had worked with Stu to remove their bindings.

"I don't care Abe," Stu said, "the bastard's got Lara."

Stu studied their surrounds, taking in the vast expanse of desolate land. James, who had teamed with Deano to remove his bindings, joined them.

"That Pitbull bastard was going to blow us away, but someone called him off."

"Why?" Abe said, as he undid Chris' bindings.

Chris glared at Deano. Abe placed his hand on Chris' shoulder.

"He didn't have a choice. Forget it."

Chris shrugged Abe's hand off him and continued to glare at Deano. Deano had directed the Pitbull to shoot him, and Chris would not forget it.

Stu said: "We got to move. Tatani will keep Lara alive for three weeks."

"And you believe him?" Chris said.

To Stu, the alternative was unthinkable. "Yes."

"Where are we?"

"North," Stu said, "way north."

"How do you know?"

"I heard them talking in the chopper. I reckon we're deep in the northwest outback. That's why there's shit all around. But we can't stand here talking. It's too hot. We got to get in the shade."

"Hey. What the..." Abe lunged at Deano.

Deano had found the water bottles the men had left. He was drinking from one when Abe tackled him. Abe snatched the open bottle back, and gathered the unopened bottles and bread. There was an envelope attached to one of the bottles. He opened it. The envelope contained a hand-drawn map. An "X" marked "you are here." A series of "^s" appeared to denote a mountain range, and beside the mountains, a snaking line, maybe a river. The line continued up the page, cutting between other mountains. And at the top of the page a circle marked "the get out." An arrow at the side of the page denoted North. No names. No indications of towns or roads. No scale indicator.

"It's a hoax," Chris said.

"It's something," Stu said.

Not waiting for the others, Stu started across the outcrop in the direction of the mountains.

There was water on the other side of the mountains, just as the map indicated. A creek, fifteen metres wide, wound through sharp hills. The terrain was completely different to the harsh plain where they had been dropped. Trees crowded the river. The smell of eucalyptus was strong, and the air was heavy with humidity.

Earlier, they had piled into the stream. Drinking. Swimming. Washing. With water they found they could think clearly. They sat in the shade, and talked.

Stu considered everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it. Trying to determine how Lara had got mixed up in it.

"Why did Tatani drop us out here?" Abe asked

"To kill us," Chris said.

Chris had his shirt off, and was checking his jeans wondering how he might rip the legs off them.

"We cut the grass of one of the meanest mother's around," Chris glared at Deano, "any comments on why we did that Deano?"

"Why didn't they shoot us?" James asked.

"There'd have been evidence," Abe said, "bullets and bones."

"And because he knew this environment would kill us," Chris said.

"Why'd he give us that message and a map? He left us water, and dropped us near a river," Abe countered.

Abe had exposed the facts that did not fit.

Stu cut in. "It doesn't matter. What matters is getting out. We've got three weeks to get out."

"There is no way out," Chris said, "three weeks is bullshit. He wants us to die. And then Lara..."

"No. Lara doesn't die. We get out and we save her."

They understood Stu's desperation. To an extent they shared it. They had all known Lara, and liked her. But they had heard the rumours about Tatani. He didn't let his enemies live.

Stu was suddenly on his feet and had Deano by the collar.

"How did Tatani get her?"

"Don't know."

"Bullshit, tell me."

Deano tried to shake out of Stu's grip. But Stu suddenly had the eye of a mad man.

"I told her we had something going down," Deano bleated, "she kept asking. And I told her."

Stu saw red. Lara was never supposed to get mixed up in their hits. He had always kept it that way. Lara was too smart, and too good for that. She had been encouraging him to leave it all behind, but he'd been too weak, and now Tatani had her. The image of Lara's beaten face filled Stu's mind. Stu slammed Deano's head back against a tree.

"I didn't tell her where – or anything," Deano gasped.

Stu slammed Deano into the tree again.

"You stupid bastard. She followed you."

Stu lifted Deano, preparing to bash his face in, but Abe separated them.

"Stop this shit. It ain't helping. Tatani said there would be water and there was. So we got to believe he isn't shitting us when he says Lara's got three weeks. We need you thinking Stu. You're a good thinker."

Abe's words focused Stu's mind. Battering Deano would not help. He needed to think of a way out.

"We follow the water," he said, "this creek might merge into a larger river. A river will lead us to some form of civilisation. A farm or small town. The "Get Out" on the map was marked on the river."

Stu started along the river bank. The others, comforted by his direction, followed him.

"We're not getting out," Chris yelled, "Deano shafted us."

The chopper returned to the farm in the afternoon. While Jordie was washing it down, Karl raised Tatani on his mobile. Tatani answered on the first ring.

"Karl?"

"They've been dropped."

"Near water?"

"Close enough. We gave them the bottles and bread and your message."

"Excellent Karl. Now listen to..."

The Pitbull snatched the phone.

"Tatani. This is bullshit. We let them go. What was wrong with Jermal's pigs?"

Tatani's voice was like ice. "Pitbull. Remember your place."

The Pitbull stared at the phone breathing hard.

"Now, you tell Karl that you and him are staying put. A farm stay. A chance to get to know each other better. Get Jordie to share some of those ordinary women of his with you. We speak next when I call."

Tatani hung up the phone, and sat in his living room, thinking about his situation. With Karl and the Pitbull in control of things he could relax and his thinking became philosophical. He considered his home, his life, and wondered how he had amassed so much, and how he must protect it all.

A Jekyll and Hyde, Tatani lived two lives; one with his wife, and the other in the depths of the underworld. To the uninformed observer Tatani made a living buying and selling carpets through two stores, one in Brisbane, and the other in Melbourne. But the stores were a front; the perfect hoax to launder money.

Tatani had fallen into the underworld more by accident than design, but once there, he had quickly become king of his domain. Born in Malta with the name of Domingo Janz, he had grown up in the fishing village of Marsaxlokk, located on the coast, south of the Capital Valletta. The son of an alcoholic father, and a submissive mother, he and his younger brother Jermal knew violence at a young age. Hernandez Janz, his father, worked a fishing boat, but blew his meagre earnings in the dockside pubs, forcing his family to rely on relatives and friends for meals and support.

The family regularly suffered from Hernandez's drunken rage. He beat them and blamed them for his lowly life. But strangely Tatani felt an attraction to his father's ways. Not to the violence against his mother, but violence as a tool. Violence as a means to get what one wanted. He socialised with his father, and his father's friends. He frequented the dockside pubs where his father spent the money that should have been food on the family table. He witnessed many brawls. In the backrooms and cobbled alleys, he saw how torture could be used to extort what one wanted. His father's friends were tight with each other, and they preyed on the weak; the new fishermen, the travellers from other countries, grounded in town for a night. But Tatani knew when he was coming home, and cleared out, leaving Jermal and his mother to suffer the brunt of Hernandez's fury. And when one night Jermal sought to fight back, cracking his father's skull with a steel pipe, and killing him, Tatani's world imploded. Maternal instinct saw his mother take the blame for the murder, and she was imprisoned. Half a year into her sentence, weak with despair, she contracted pneumonia and died.

With nothing to ground them, and their relationship damaged after what had happened to their mother, Tatani and Jermal sought new lives. Jermal worked the farms in the north of the country. Tatani left Malta with only the clothes on his back, and his mother's maiden name. No first name, only a surname.

And in this way, Tatani, was born.

He landed in Greece, and commenced work as a shipping hand for an international freight company. His work took him to every major port on the globe, transporting spices and livestock. But the work paid poorly, and in time he sought out the more lucrative undercurrents of the cargo trade. He began smuggling small quantities of drugs, hiding them with the rest of the cargo. He developed an extensive network of contacts; buyers in one country, sellers in another, and Tatani the man who linked them together. He was reliable. He got the job done. And he protected his network with an iron fist.

In time Tatani's work on the ocean led him to Australia. Tiring of the sea he decided to ground himself. He could make more money with less risk by arranging the buyers and sellers, and using other individuals to courier the drugs. He set up a carpet shop in Melbourne to disguise his drugs trafficking, and quickly established a reputation as a shrewd operator with a notoriously violent streak. People both feared and needed him. He became the go to man for anyone wanting to shift large quantities of drugs. His contacts grew and his business expanded. Tatani became the King; a smooth operator and a sound executioner. Injuring and killing became a way of life. But as his empire grew he needed more bodies on the ground to guard himself and his empire. He enlisted the help of men that he encountered through his work, and who had proven themselves capable and trustworthy. He paid them well, and they repaid him with unwavering loyalty. The men commenced as workers but he treated them as family. Karl and the Pitbull were the first, but others joined them, and a tight circle was formed.

Inevitably, however, Tatani's pursuits attracted the attention of the Melbourne police. And when they commenced sniffing around the edges of his empire Tatani closed up, and went to ground for a time. He spent some time in London before returning to Australia, and re-establishing himself in Brisbane; another carpet shop, another group of protectors (some of his old crew and several new bodies), but with his reputation in tact. He quickly determined who was important in the Brisbane underworld scene, who was useful, and who was dangerous. He formed alliances with the useful individuals and avoided the dangerous ones, and in this way his trafficking business flourished again.

He met a girl, adopted a first name – Giovanni – because she insisted that he have a proper name, married her, and had a child. Several years later he established contact with the brother he had left behind in Malta. Jermal was unemployed and suffering from a downturn in the agricultural industry. Time apart seemed to have healed their differences, and Tatani flew Jermal out to Australia, and set him up on a farm an hour west of Brisbane. Jermal brought with him a love of the land and pig breeding.

Tatani stared now at the dead animals hanging from his living room walls. His empire was vast. He owned the fine home he sat in tonight, and several others. He had invested his wealth well. His wife had learnt not to question how carpet sales brought them so much. She had her suspicions, but she, like Simon, their son, had experienced his anger first hand. Growing up, Simon had sought to protect his mother, and had suffered many beatings for it. Violence became what Simon knew and he accepted it, soaking it up like a second education. He disliked his father's mistreatment of his mother, but he also saw the power of violence. The way it could be used. Switched on and off to get what you want. And in this way the violence of Hernandez Janz poisoned another generation.

Tatani saw instincts in his son from a young age, and he sought to foster them. When Simon was eighteen, and old enough to hold his own, Tatani introduced him formerly to his inner circle. Simon had seen all of the men before. The men had frequented his home for special occasions, birthdays, Christmas, and had been introduced as his father's friends and business associates. But the men were subsequently revealed to him as a tight circle of criminals. Each man was devoted to his father, and sworn to protect him and the sanctum they shared. The men were older than Simon, and therefore a threat. So Simon asserted himself, proving he could hold his own. He never once hid behind his father. And with various exhibitions, closing various deals, and at last count permanently eliminating three of Tatani's enemies, Simon had established his place in the group as a sharp and ambitious individual.

And it was because of Simon's efforts, and those of his other men, that Tatani could not allow his empire to wilt and fade. It had to be protected. A succession plan had been on Tatani's mind for some time now. And Simon was to be his successor. Tatani would only hand over his empire to someone tied to him by blood. Simon was smart and his instincts were sharp. He was an adept fighter and comfortable with violence. But he was still green. He conducted himself with the brazen fearlessness of youth. He had little sense of self preservation.

Tatani saw a lot of himself in Simon but the difference was, Tatani had learnt enough to change. Tatani had changed to survive. But Simon's attention span was short. He skipped over risks and sought to get things over with quickly; moving on to the next deal while he was still half finished with the previous one. But despite his youthful flaws, Simon could be shrewd when he wanted to be. When the odds were against him he fought his way out. And he was engaging. The other men, despite being more experienced, were still inspired by him. Simon could talk. He could motivate. He could manage men. With the right moulding Simon could be powerful.

And with Tatani's plotting, he would be.

Chapter 8

"Gather fuel," Stu ordered, "dry leaves and twigs. We can make a fire."

The outback climate is one of extremes. Semi-desert, the days are hot, but after dark the temperature plummets. It was the middle of the night, and the lads were freezing.

While the others collected leaves and twigs, Stu found a rock and branch. He set the rock on the ground, and knelt over it, holding it upright between his knees. He placed a branch inside a crack in the rock, and started spinning it between his palms.

The others returned, and piled leaves and twigs on the ground.

"This will be good," Chris said.

Stu ignored him. In time the spinning branch became hot with friction, and a thin trail of smoke crept out of the hole. Stu up-ended the contents of the rock on to the pile of leaves and blew on them. Numerous fragments glowed bright red and the pile started to smoke. An instant later an orange lick appeared.

They moved in close, relishing the warmth.

"Fire without matches," Abe said, "genius."

The others lay down to sleep, comforted by the warmth, but Stu sat back against a tree, staring at the flames. He was tired but he could not sleep. His mind was occupied by thoughts of Lara. He had to get out. Not to save himself, but to save her.

The distance between them had magnified his instinct to protect her. The men had her, but he would get her back. And if there was one trait Stu had in copious quantities it was determination.

Life had made him that way; determined and often single-minded. He had been orphaned at eleven years of age when both his parents died in a car crash. He had been in the wreck, but had walked away unharmed. The experience had left him with mental baggage; why should he have survived, when the two people he loved more than anything, had been taken from him? The sentiment encouraged his recklessness. What was death, when you should have been dead already?

After the accident he had been placed in the care of community selected foster parents. The elderly couple welcomed Stu into their home in the western suburbs of Brisbane, and provided a basic upbringing.

The woman doted on her new son with all the love that sixty childless years had fostered. The man, a carpenter by trade, suffered from depression, and provided pockets of affection amid a baseline of animosity. A lowly paid tradesman he despised his situation, and after fooling the authorities into believing him a suitable parent, he turned on Stu, believing his adopted son was just another reason to work himself into an early grave.

Stu's response was to escape the home at any chance he got. At thirteen he fell in with the wrong crowd. A tight unit of teens, they terrorised the neighbourhood. Graffiti and shoplifting escalated to illicit drug and alcohol use and petty crime. A risk taker and compelling talker, with little care for self-preservation, Stu became a ring leader of sorts. His opinion mattered. He dictated what the group did.

Half way through high school Stu was known to the local police, and schools in the community, as a problem. And then his foster father died. An undetected aneurism burst, and destroyed his brain while he slept. His death triggered a change in Stu's behaviour. He forged a strong bond with his adopted mother. He gave her companionship and hope. Hope that one day he might become something. With her encouragement he applied himself in the last two years of high school, and exhibited a sharp intelligence. Then his foster mother's health deteriorated. With the early signs of Parkinson's disease she was committed to a nursing home.

With no capable guardians, but exhibiting promise, Stu was awarded a state funded scholarship to a boarding school in Toowoomba, a city North of Brisbane. The tight-nit boarding community awakened some of the tendencies that Stu had left behind as an early teen. He quickly established himself as a sharp tactician that was good at making things happen. He became popular with the academically minded kids, and also the wayward students. He established a small drug and alcohol distribution racquet. With a set of suppliers and a strategy to traffic the merchandise into the school, his reputation flourished. He could be trusted. He was reliable. And he got anything that you wanted; discreetly and hassle free. It was at boarding school that he met Chris and Abe and later James and Deano.

After completing school Stu continued with his distribution racquet. His business was no different to any other business, it relied on word of mouth to survive and grow. But despite his popularity, a gap remained in his psyche. It might have been the near death experience at eleven years of age, or something else altogether, but he always felt as if he was merely existing. That his purpose in life was limited. With no family to ground him, he believed that one day his existence would end, and no one would notice. The belief made him reckless. He cared little for himself. He cared little for others.

Then Lara appeared. And she changed everything.

The Brisbane Treasury Casino was buzzing; constant chatter, the dinging of slot machines, the rattle of the roulette wheel, and the flick and slap of cards on the blackjack tables. It was one in the morning, but with no clocks on the walls, the punters were oblivious to the time. Half an hour, two hours, eight hours from now, they would walk out of the place, and wonder what the hell happened. Most of them would go to the nearest ATM, and get straight back in.

Raven, Tatani's hired mercenary, sat at a blackjack table. A thousand dollars worth of chips were piled in front of him. He had altered his appearance. His normally brown hair was stark blonde, and he wore glasses. But he was unable to suppress the spitting habit that had been with him since childhood. He detested the sensation of excess saliva in his mouth. Normally, outside, he would spit it on to the footpath, but indoors, and when in refined surrounds, he discreetly expelled the saliva into a tissue or handkerchief, as he did presently. He had researched the ailment on the internet once and the condition was common enough that it had been given some fancy name that he promptly forgot. He did not care about the name of the condition, all he cared about was the fact that the habit gave him a trait that people might remember, and in his line of work a signature like that was a risk.

Raven slapped a hundred dollar chip down for the next hand. The dealer dealt the cards. Eleven, Raven doubled down. A ten, blackjack, the dealer paid him one and half times, and Raven swept the chips into his pile. He did not care for the win. He despised gambling, and was merely biding his time.

And it seemed his time was up. The dealer at Raven's table was replaced, and left the gaming area through a staff only security door. Raven left the table, cashed in his chips, and exited the casino.

Raven moved quickly around to an alley at the rear of the casino. He stood against the wall in the shadows. He checked his watch. The target would appear in two minutes. Raven knew this because he had observed the same sequence the previous two nights. This was the second leg in what he expected to be a lengthy trail; a trail that would ultimately lead him to the mastermind of the bloodbath at the docklands. His first stop had been with a man named Murphy. Raven had cornered him outside a brothel in town. Murphy had been present that night in the docklands, but had not been a significant player. But Murphy had provided the identity of the man who had hired him. And that was the man Raven was waiting for now.

A door opened, and the target stepped out, and started along the alley in the opposite direction. Raven quickly caught up with him. Raven kept his gun in his jacket pocket, and pressed it against the man's back and put his arm around his shoulder. Two drunk friends, of little interest to anyone.

"Just keep walking."

"What do you want?" the bearded man asked.

"Answers. Tell me what I want and you can walk home. Mess with me and you'll be floating down the river."

The two entered the deserted pedestrian mall that ran toward the river. A crafty individual, the man tried to catch a glimpse of Raven in the reflections of the darkened shop windows. Raven was disguised, so he did not care.

"What's your name?" Raven asked.

"Biggs."

The name checked out to Murphy's information.

"Three weeks ago there was a blow up. Two dead in the docks. You were involved."

Biggs shook his head. Raven jabbed the gun into the small of Biggs' back.

"Don't mess with me."

"I drove one of the cars," Biggs muttered, "I didn't do any of the shooting. I didn't know what was happening."

"Bullshit. Who put you on to it?"

Intuition told Raven that Biggs was not high up the chain. Higher than Murphy, but not one of the big fish. He wouldn't be working a card table if he was important. But Biggs could tell him things.

"Answered an ad in the paper," Biggs replied.

Raven shoved Biggs' face first into one of the shop windows. There was a splat as Biggs' nose collapsed. He came away from the glass bloodied and whimpering.

"Now we don't look like friends anymore," Raven said as he directed Biggs down the next side street. It was empty, and he moved into a doorway halfway down. He pressed his gun to Biggs' chest.

"Who put you onto it?"

Biggs' head swayed on his shoulders, and he struggled to focus.

"Jack Kandy. Said it was a standard heist. There was no talk of shooting. I got a gig driving, nothing more."

"I don't believe you. Is a mashed face not enough? I have pliers in my car, we can play this little piggy with your fingernails."

"No – no – no. Truth. It's the truth. Kandy. Came into the casino and started playing at my table. Cornered me afterward. Truth. It's the truth."

"How did Kandy know about the second car? The dead men had two cars, the second one had been discreet, but you bastards knew about it. How?"

Biggs shook his head. His shirt was drenched with blood.

"Kandy said it would be that way. That's all I know."

Raven elbowed Biggs in the throat, forcing him to keel over gagging. Raven tugged him upright by the hair. He spat on the ground and continued the interrogation.

"Bullshit. Tell me what you know."

Biggs struggled to breathe, blood clogged his nostrils.

"Mole. A mole," he bleated.

"What?"

"One of Tatani's was working for our side."

"Who?"

Biggs shook his head, pleading, and said: "Don't know. Shit. I don't know. Kandy knew."

Raven heard movement at the end of the alley; raised voices and footsteps. He looked out of the doorway and saw a group of men approaching. The men were shoving each other and laughing, drunk lads on their way home. Raven could handle them if he had to, but there was no need. Biggs had told him all he knew.

"Alright – sleep tight."

Raven rammed Biggs' head back against the bricks, and he dropped like a stone. Raven pocketed his gun, spat near where Bigg's body lay, and stepped out of the doorway.

"Good night for it," he said as he passed the men.

Chapter 9

Two days after being dropped they were desperate. Moving hurt them. Walking beneath the trees was like walking in a sauna. The sun poured down on the canopy of leaves making the air heavy with humidity. Flies, thick-bodied things, lumbered out of nowhere, turned circles around their faces, and buzzed away. And the blare of cicadas was so intense that it echoed inside their heads.

They had stripped off their shirts. Having rationed the bread, they lacked the energy to move. Their limbs were tired, and their thoughts were vague and random. Earlier, Chris had suggested to everyone that they "find a nice place to haul up and die." But Stu had kept moving. And the others followed him.

Stu maintained his authority over the others just as he had on the outside. Each time the others stopped he urged them to move again.

... at least to the next rise, beyond the next line of trees – another hundred paces – we can't stop now – there will be a farm or a road...

But the bush never produced anything new, just more dirt and scrub, and more heat and flies.

Stu blamed Deano for their situation. He had lied to them. He had got them mixed up with Tatani. Stu despised Deano and like the others, he refused to share the bread with Deano.

Stu listened to Deano moving behind them. Deano moved in bursts, darting from one plot of scrub to the next. Keeping in the shade. If any sunlight fell on him he swiped at the spot as if the light was acid eating into his skin. He talked to himself. Muttering indecipherable words, and often times screaming out. He cursed the sun. He cursed the bush. He cursed the others.

Stu did not realise it but Deano's behaviour was the result of chronic drug withdrawals. He craved a hit of cocaine and he became uneasy without it. He saw random visions. He struggled to pick a path between the trees, tripping and stumbling on roots.

But Stu did not care. Deano was a liability. He was weak. He was the reason Tatani had Lara. Stu wondered when they would leave Deano behind.

Deano, despite his appearance and delirium, remained remarkably sane. He was not as debilitated as the others thought. He could still move. He could still think. And he took a chance at midday on the second day, when the others had stopped to rest. Abe had dozed off with the last loaf of bread tucked protectively under his arm.

Ravenous, Deano slipped the bread from under Abe's arm, and devoured what was left. He consumed the last mouthful just as Abe woke.

"Bread! It's gone!"

The others woke, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Chris saw Deano fleeing through the trees, and gave chase.

Deano plundered through the scrub, branches clawing at his face, as he screamed out in fear. He started down the slope, bouncing off trees, stumbling, but somehow maintaining his feet.

Chris worked quickly down the slope, coming at Deano on a diagonal. His mind was blind. Deano had eaten the last of their bread. Deano had got them into this shit. Deano was the reason the Pitbull had pissed on him. Deano had made him the Pitbull's target. Deano would pay.

Deano made it to the base of the slope, and started across the flat ground. The trees were thicker on the flat, and he stumbled as he dodged between them. But Chris was too fast, and he tackled Deano to the ground. They rolled together in the undergrowth, arms and legs flailing in an attempt to emerge on top of the other. Deano squealed like an animal, getting his hands on Chris' face, gouging his eyes. Chris yelled in pain. He butted Deano with his head, and climbed on to his chest, pinning his arms down with his knees.

The first punch split the skin above Deano's right eye. Another caught him on the forehead, and cracked his head back against the ground. Deano tried to roll over, but Chris held him still with his knees.

"You shithead! Son of a bitch! Bastard!"

The others stood at the top of the slope watching the violence. No one spoke. No one moved to intervene. Chris was taking care of things for them.

Chris beat Deano relentlessly; the release of each punch, drawing another. He beat him with such violence that two days ago, in their regimented urban world, would have seemed impossible. He smashed away at his former friend until his knuckles were skinned and bleeding.

Deano tried to cry out but each time he started to form the words a fist bent his mouth out of shape. And the blood. There was so much blood. In his mouth. On his face. Exiting his ear.

Suddenly, Chris was shoved aside. He rolled in the dirt, found his feet, and lunged at Deano again, but Stu held him back. Chris' bare chest was scratched, and debris clung to his hair. Stu watched him carefully, seeing the madness in his eyes.

"No more. He's had enough."

"The bastard killed us. Got us dropped out here and eats all of our food," Chris said.

"He has had enough."

Stu saw how badly Chris wanted to get at Deano, but the obstacle Stu's body created distracted Chris. Chris' anger seemed to be replaced by a realisation that Deano was not worth it.

"This thing is screwed up," Chris shouted and stormed into the trees, "we're all going to die."

Stu turned to Deano, trying to see his face beneath all the blood.

"Get up. We're moving."

Stu was woken by a grinding sound. He opened his eyes, and saw the light grey of dawn. Hunger beat inside his belly. Rolling onto his side he saw Chris and Deano crouched close to the river. It was the morning of the third day.

Chris and Deano did not look up when Stu joined them. Chris had a branch, two metres in length, and thin like a curtain rod. He was sharpening the branch against a rock. Deano's face was swollen and bruised. His right eye was half closed. A cut ran from beneath his hairline to the top of his left eye. Blood had dried dark brown over his face.

Chris stopped filing. He gestured and Deano blew the wood shavings off the stone.

Chris said: "Go get more."

Deano limped away. He returned with three branches. Chris kept two, and tossed the third away.

"Crap. Get another."

Deano re-entered the bush.

Stu was bewildered by Deano's obedience. It was as if Deano had totally forgotten how Chris had beaten him.

Stu said: "You're making spears. Can I help?"

Two completed spears lay beside Chris. The white tips were sharp; primitive but lethal.

Chris did not look up.

"No. He does things for me now."

As Chris was speaking Deano returned with another branch. Chris took it, and gestured for Deano to blow the filings from the stone. As Deano withdrew from the rock, Chris grabbed Deano's head in both hands, and directed Deano's beaten face so that he was looking at Stu.

"I did this to him," Chris said, pride and power in his tone, "and I can do it again."

He released Deano, and Deano obediently blew away more of the wood filings.

Deano is Chris' slave, Stu thought. Stu wondered how it might have started. Had Chris threatened him? Had he beaten him again? Or was Deano's brain so warped from drug withdrawals that this obedient behaviour comforted him?

Chris inspected his spear, and his eyes found Stu beyond the pointed tip.

"This can kill," Chris said.

Chris made enough spears for everyone, and they hunted. They crept carefully through the vegetation. The only sound was the spluttering of the stream. Their caution bordered on theatrical. But after three days in the bush, to be hunting like this did not seem unusual, it seemed natural and right. They were desperate, they needed food, and this gave the hunt a reverent importance.

They spread out. Chris and Deano remained in the fertile scrub closer to the river while the others hunted further up the slope. Stu was amazed at how soundlessly Chris moved. He thread through the trees, barely stirring the vegetation, whereas Abe and James were loud and clumsy, getting distracted by shapes and sounds that they thought were animals, but were really nothing. Chris' focus never wavered as he waited for something real.

But in time Stu's enthusiasm for the hunt passed as he failed to sight any animals. The spears became a hindrance. They were heavy and caught in the scrub. Killing animals had seemed easy at the outset, but in the unbearable heat, it was impossible. Ravenous, Stu tried to fill his stomach with water, but the water merely swirled around exposing the emptiness inside him. Stu saw Abe eat the berries off a tree, and watched him dry retch for hours afterward.

Having failed in the hunt, Chris forced Deano to shove a spear down a hole that looked like it might house an animal. The burrow was occupied and the snake, all three metres of it, poured out of the hole, and shot down the slope toward the water. While the others were leaping out of its path, Chris attacked it. His first spear missed but the second pinned the snake to the ground. The snake hissed and reared, writhing around the stake that held it still. Then Deano, eager to impress his master, hurled his own spear. The spear found its mark but also rolled the snake over dislodging Chris' spear. The snake sped down the slope dragging Deano's spear with it, and vanished beneath a pile of rocks beside the river.

Chris leapt up on to the rocks, jumping from stone to stone and jabbing with his spear, searching for the snake beneath. But the reptile was gone. Then Chris attacked Deano, punching him to the ground, and grinding his face into the dirt until Stu stopped him.

"We'll get food," Stu said.

"Bullshit," Chris spat, "you all make too much noise. And I tell you, when we get to the stage of eating each other, we eat that dumb son of a bitch, Deano, first."

It was 1 am when Tatani arrived at Jermal's property. Jermal had been expecting him, and he stood outside in the glow of his porch light. Mishka and Djaska, Jermal's hunting Dobermans, bounded up to Tatani's car, and tried to climb inside when he opened the door.

"Brother."

"Jermal."

"You are in a hurry," Jermal said as he led Tatani inside.

They passed through the kitchen and entered the lounge room where Jermal rolled back a heavy Persian rug concealing a steel plated trapdoor cut into the floor. He entered a security code, and lifted the door revealing stairs below.

Tatani descended and flicked on a light at the base of the steps, illuminating a room, three metres by two metres with a low ceiling. The room was full of weapons.

Tatani kept his weapons at Jermal's farm for security.

Close to fifteen rifles stood against the walls; semi-automatic black assault rifles, pump-action shotguns, and a collection of manual loading hunting rifles. And on the shelves above the rifles was a collection of hunting knives, bows and arrows.

Tatani had developed an affiliation with weapons at the same time he commenced his drugs trafficking. He had purchased his first gun, a Glock 22 RTF2 pistol, from a port dealer in Barbados. And since then he had kept upgrading and expanding his arsenal. He knew each of his weapons intimately, range, gauge, and internal operating mechanisms. Always on the lookout for new firepower he had recently purchased a pair of Remington Model 750 semi-auto hunting rifles from a contact intimate with the illegal Australian arms market. The rifles could punch a hole in a deer from five hundred metres.

"Care to explain your plans?" Jermal asked.

"No," Tatani said as he selected the two Remington rifles. Built from light weight materials and completed with a synthetic stock, the rifle was perfect for travel and good against the elements. Tatani then picked up a pair of seven-inch bowie knives; their blades serrated one-side and razor-sharp the other. The blades were stainless steel, and the handles fashioned from authentic cowhide. The knives were durable, impossible to blunt, and with a 12 inch blade, lethal. Next Tatani selected two boxes of bullets. Then he picked up a light weight flare gun with three canisters.

"You still have the girl?" Jermal asked.

"Yes," Tatani said as he started up the stairs.

Jermal followed him, and said: "Why keep her. She's harmless."

"That is not your issue Jermal," Tatani said as he carried his weapons through Jermal's living room.

Chris stepped carefully through the trees. It was dark. His body glowed in the moonlight as he pressed on with his spears.

As Chris hunted his mind returned to a time many years ago. He was ten years old, and hunting on his family's farm in rural New South Wales. He had learnt to shoot at eight. At that age he had been rocked back by the kick of each gunshot, and rarely hit his target. But by the time he was ten he was able to sustain the jolt, and his accuracy improved.

He was standing over a half dead kangaroo. The animal was trying to regain its feet, but its hind leg was shattered. Each time it tried to stand, its leg would give way, and it would flop on to its side. Chris knelt to get a look at the wound. All mangled fur and protruding bone. Then his father was there.

"Bloody butt shot. You know better. You shoot at the neck or the head. Take them out quick. Why are you butt shooting them? You've got a good aim."

Then the hot sting of his father slapping him in the face, and shoving him away.

"You're butt shooting them on purpose son. It ain't on."

Chris regained his feet, watching the animal writhing in front of him. He saw the pain in the animal's eyes. The roo's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly. The life was leaking out of it. Its efforts to stand became less and less vigorous.

"You got no right to put 'em through this misery. It ain't right."

His father was at him again, but Chris was focused only on the animal. And despite what his father was saying, Chris liked what he saw. The suffering of the animal seemed to intoxicate him. His father was right. Chris had meant to shoot the roo in the leg; to send the animal into this clumsy display of agony. Had his father not appeared Chris would have tormented the animal further, torturing it as it lay helpless on the ground.

There was no reason or sense to Chris' behaviour. Other than it felt good.

And as Chris stood now, steadying himself in the darkness, he saw the dying roo of his youth, alive again, poised at the river drinking. Its dark fur glowed silver in the moonlight. He crept closer, until he was ten metres away. The roo straightened and smelt the air. Chris let fly with his spear. The spear grazed the roo's back, and then it was gone, bounding away into the darkness.

"Bastard," Chris muttered, reclaiming his spear and continuing through the bush.

Stu was woken by the smell of meat cooking. He shoved in beside the others at the fire. Chris held a stick with a lizard impaled on it. The lizard was forty centimetres in length, and wide in the middle. Its head was charred and unrecognisable, and its feet were burnt like brittle twigs. Stu's stomach groaned with hunger.

Chris removed the stick from the fire. The lizard's body smoked as he prodded it with his finger. Then he broke a piece of flesh off and ate it.

Stu's belly groaned. But it was Chris' lizard, he had caught it and he could do with it as he wished. Chris broke off more flesh and ate again. Then he offered it to Abe.

"Two pieces," he said.

Abe ripped two pieces of flesh from the lizard. Chris skipped Deano and offered the lizard to James. Then he looked at Stu. Stu sensed something in the glare. A challenge. Stu broke off two pieces and ate.

They continued to eat from the lizard until all that remained was bones and skin. Then Chris handed it to Deano, and Deano picked hungrily through the remnants, extracting the flesh that the others had overlooked.

"Wild pig," Chris said.

Stu looked at him.

"I heard it," Chris said, "grunting and running. I wanted to hunt it but I had the lizard."

Stu saw the impact Chris' revelations had on the others. Pig meat. Real meat. That was what they wanted.

"Next time I'm gonna put this through the pig's neck," Chris mimicked a jab with his spear.

Chapter 10

For Stu, time passed as if in a dream. The mountains and trees, the turns in the river, the rocky bank and scrub, all merged into a nightmare of heat and desolation. Walking was torture. The soles of his feet were cut and bleeding. Eating the lizard seemed so long ago that he struggled to determine if it had really happened. And a vision of Lara lingered just below his consciousness, ready to leap at him when he thought to stop walking. He deeply regretted the moment he had signed up to Deano's heist. He despaired that they may never get out. That Lara would die alone, beaten and starved.

Hunger made him weak. But how did they get food? He had hunted with the group and he had hunted alone, both times he had failed to spear anything. Only Chris seemed capable. Chris had speared the lizard, and talked about a boar. Maybe Chris could kill the pig. The lure of pig meat intoxicated Stu as much as it did the others. And Chris was the only one who could get it for them.

Stu hated his dependence on Chris. He had been wary of Chris on the outside, not afraid of him, but aware of the madness that lingered below Chris' exterior. Chris asserted himself by threatening and dragging others down. He had reduced Deano to a slave in the space of three days. But it was Chris' insular behaviour that concerned Stu the most. Chris distanced himself. He rarely spoke to them during the day. And when Chris did speak it was always about hunting and the pig. He was obsessed by the pig.

Chris no longer cared about getting out. And he tried to gain the support of the others. Stu saw the way Chris coerced them into moving less and resting more often. He seemed happy trolling the bush at night with his spears. And in a strange way, that was why Stu despised Chris, because the bush did not oppress him. Stu wanted to get out so bad it hurt. But Chris had embraced the situation.

Stu dunked his head in the stream, and washed his face. He heard the others preparing a fire further up the bank. Then Stu saw Chris approaching along the river, a dark silhouette in the evening light. Hungry, Stu looked for any sign of a kill; a lizard or a small rodent, but there was none. Hunger fuelled Stu's anger.

Chris' appearance matched his attitude. He did not wash. His face was stained black, and his hair was full of dirt. His entire body was covered in a dry film of dust.

Lets him blend into the bush. Bastard has turned into a feral.

The hair that used to fall over Chris' face was tied back by a vine. A similar vine was looped around his neck.

"What is this ornamental crap?" Stu snatched the vine from Chris' head and hair fell over his eyes.

"You stink," Stu said, "you don't sleep. You hunt all night. Not for food but for fun. You may not want to get out but we do, and you're stopping us."

Chris regarded him in silence. And Stu felt compelled to fill the silence with words. He stifled his anger and tried to speak reason.

"We cannot live out here. If we try we will die. The environment will get us. We have to stay together. We have to help each other. And we will get..."

Stu's words were drowned out by Chris' laughter; his teeth were a vibrant white inside his dirty face.

"Tatani has done us in," Chris said.

They stood inches apart as the world darkened around them.

"No," Stu said, "we're getting out. And we're going to get Lara."

Chris shook his head, and said: "We're not getting out. And I'm sorry to be the one to break it you, but Lara is dead, same as we are."

"No she isn't," Stu said, "three weeks. He gave us three weeks."

"He gave us shit," Chris said, and retreated into the trees.

"That's it, run away. Hide. Useless bastard!" Stu shouted and turned to the others, "son of a bitch has gone feral. We leave him, we don't need him."

But Chris re-emerged moments later with an animal draped over his shoulders. For some reason he had dumped the animal there earlier before entering the clearing. The others hurried to join him.

"What is that?" James said.

"Some hopping thing," Chris said, "get it on the fire."

All at once Stu's anger was overwhelmed by hunger. He helped them start a fire. And as the animal cooked, Stu listened to Chris recount the thrill of the hunt, and turn the conversation back to the boar. Chris had seen it again. He had pursued it, but it had eluded him in the dense foliage higher in the mountains.

And listening to the story, Stu saw how Chris made them want the pig just as much as he did.

It was an old basement storage room, six metres by six metres, with concrete walls and ceiling. An unclean toilet and shower stall were located in one corner. The amenities had once been in a separate room, but the walls were gone, and cement and brick remnants remained on the floor where the walls had once stood. The only break in the concrete walls was a steel door; one way in – one way out. There were no windows, no natural light. A single light globe swayed at the end of a cord in the centre of the room. Air entered the room through a series of vents close to the ceiling.

Lara could not be sure how long she had been trapped in the room. The man who came to feed her each day had said it had been three days, but she did not trust him. She remembered the men interrogating her in the shed. The torchlight shining in her face as they threatened her with a knife, asking her questions about Stu and the others, and why she had been in the car park. Then one of them had produced a syringe, and her next memory had been waking up in this place, lying bound on the floor. They had filmed her. Taunting her. Touching her. They had waved guns and knives in front of her face. Then they had untied her and left.

After the initial panic had passed, she had realised that she was stuck in this place unless she determined a way out. She had scoured the cell for anything useful, a weak section in the wall or a loose bit of brickwork. She had tried to force the door with her shoulder, but it was made of heavy steel, and locked from the outside. But if she had a weapon, anything better than her bare hands, she could lie in wait for the man that came to feed her. Attack him when he opened the door, and get out. But there was nothing.

The man who came to feed her was frightening. He was large and strong. But more than his physical appearance, his manner frightened her. He seemed unstable and on edge. He had been present when they filmed her, and had touched her face and body, and he leered at her each time he visited. He spoke little to her and often muttered to himself while he assessed her. His primal urges were clear. The first time he arrived, he said he would see her every day for three weeks, and after that, "his orders", as he described them, were to just leave her and walk away. He had laughed when he told her this. He had said that dying in here would be like being buried alive. And that she had better hope that her friends pulled through. She asked him more about what he meant, but he did not elaborate.

Lara sat down now against a wall. She was hungry. Her senses were erratic, as her sleeping patterns had been thrown out by her inability to tell night from day. Stress and despair exhausted her. She longed for sunlight and fresh air. She longed for Stu, to see him, to touch him. Just to know that he was alive and safe.

She did not blame Stu for getting into the scheme with the others. Rather she blamed herself for not reacting quick enough to warn him. She had listened to Deano's snippets about the scheme, and she had seen the men who had come into the pub to meet him. Those men had been rough and dangerous, and she should have done more to keep Stu safe. But that was just it with them, madly in love with each other, but always fighting or failing to communicate. And now, trapped and apart from him, she could not fathom how they had ever fought. Their fights seemed so petty compared to the gravity of the present. Stu could be beaten. He could be dead.

She sat against the wall, and rested her head between her knees. There were no tears. She had given up crying. Crying was not her style, and it would not get her out. And as much as she wanted to believe, she could not rely on Stu to get her out. The only person who could get her out was herself.

A squeal sounded in the night and Stu woke to see Chris on his feet looking across the river.

"What is it?"

"Shut up."

"Wh..."

"It's there," Chris breathed.

The others were awake now.

"What?" Abe asked.

"The boar."

Stu shifted closer to Chris, trying to see what he saw.

"Where? Can you see it?"

Without answering, Chris picked up three spears. James and Abe located their own. Chris glared at Stu, angered by his inaction.

"We can kill it," Chris said.

Stu said: "We don't need it. We've already eaten."

Stu understood what was happening. The others were caught by the lure of hunting the pig, not for food, but for the excitement of tracking and killing something dangerous.

"We can get it anyway," Chris said.

Stu realised that now that the sequence had been set in motion it would play itself out. And the sequence would not end until Chris had speared the boar. Stu could either participate, and be part of the mighty hunt, or risk being seen as insignificant.

Stu picked up his spears.

Chris patted the air and Stu sunk into the tall grass. The land fell away down a steep slope in front of them. At the base of the slope, thirty metres away, the boar moved through the thick undergrowth.

The boar was bigger than Stu had imagined. It was black and heavy and one metre tall. Thick legs met a barrelled body, and muscles bulged around the joints. It was covered in bristled fur. Its eyes were dark disks that shone silver when they caught the moonlight. And its tusks, each as thick as a man's forearm, stuck out from its mouth, concaved and pointing upwards. The boar used its tusks to rip at the dirt around the trees, snorting as it searched for something good to eat.

Sensing their presence, the pig squealed and spun around. Its nostrils sucked in and out as it glared up the slope. They lay flat on their stomachs refusing to breathe. The pig eyed the grassed area. Then, unable to put something tangible to its scent of danger, it continued foraging around the roots.

Stu waited with the others. He had his own ideas on what to do next, about how to hem the pig in. Normally Stu would have asserted himself over the group, but it was Chris' hunt. Stu wondered what might be going through Chris' mind. For Chris, the boar meant everything. The boar was more than prey. It was more than food. The pig was an adversary. And now that Chris had started the hunt, Chris carried the weight of expectation. The others expected him to kill the pig. Stu understood that kind of pressure, he had lived with it most of his life. And he understood just how that pressure could prompt foolish behaviour.

Chris edged them further down the slope. He stopped when the boar was twenty metres below, not wanting to give up any more elevation. If the pig charged, the slope would slow it down.

The boar was still foraging, but its behaviour had changed. It snorted and grunted more often, stopping to sniff the air, searching for something in the shadows. Stu instinctively gripped his spear. The muscles around his neck were drawn tight to the point of aching.

Chris pointed at Stu and Deano and then at the ground; Stu interpreted that he was to remain where he was. Chris then pointed at James and Abe, and jabbed his finger across the slope. The adjacent slope was thick with scrub but the fifteen metre space in between was bare. Stu understood Chris' plan. He intended to surround the boar, and come at it from all sides. If the boar panicked and tried to escape through the scrub at the base of the slope, the vegetation would slow it down, and allow them to get a spear into it.

When the boar was distracted the three ran. They got partway across the slope, when the ground gave way under Abe's feet. He lost his balance and fell, sliding halfway down the rise. Stu watched as the big man lay still on his stomach, his eyes frantic, facing up the slope. Rock and dirt clattered down the hillside to where the boar stood.

The boar squealed. It clawed at the earth, and a thin track of fur reared the length of its back as it eyed Abe on the slope. A rush of adrenalin filled Stu's limbs. He focused on the animal's tusks, and the spear he held suddenly felt flimsy and incapable of anything.

The pig began rocking back and forward. And then at the peak of its oscillation, it charged.

The black cannon ball was at the base of the slope before Abe reacted. He tried to escape up the slope, but he stumbled as the dirt broke under his feet, and the boar was on him.

The boar buried its left tusk deep into Abe's leg. The animal shook its head, swinging Abe's leg around, like it belonged to a stuffed doll. Then it wrenched its tusk free and backed up. Stu was stunned by the ferocity of the attack, but he could not leave Abe defenceless. Stu dropped his spear, found a branch, not long but thick enough, and he ran and positioned himself between the animal and Abe. The animal was enormous up close. Like a German Sheppard dog but twice as solid. When the pig charged, Stu swung at the animal.

The branch struck the boar on the head knocking it sideways. The pig rolled over several times. It charged again. Stu yelled as he swung, this time striking the animal on the snout. Stu watched the pig stumble, losing its footing, and slipping partway down the slope. As the animal regained its balance, something flashed in the darkness, and a spear materialised in the animal's side. The pig tumbled down the slope hooves flailing in the air. Once on level ground it righted itself, and hopped around in a half circle, its teeth snapping at the spear hanging from its side. Unable to remove it, the animal bucked, all four legs leaving the ground at once, and the spear fell out. It sniffed at the spear, squealing at the scent of its own blood. Another spear flew two inches over the boar's head. Sensing danger the boar took off into the trees.

Abe was moaning clutching his leg.

"Got me. Bastard thing got me."

Stu saw the wound in the moonlight. It was a long gash just below the knee. The flesh around it had been torn, and Stu saw something white beneath all the blood. Stu took off his t-shirt and looped it around Abe's leg just above his knee. He forced Abe's leg into an elevated position.

"We got to stop the blood," Stu instructed.

He did not know precisely what to do, he was acting on instinct. He was filling the void left by the others who were unable to respond, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

"Shit," James moaned, "it ripped him open."

Despite the make-shift tourniquet, blood continued to pool on the ground.

"We got to get him down to the water and wash it," Stu ordered, "James, Deano get an arm each and Chris and I will get his legs."

James and Deano took their positions, but Stu was left alone to carry Abe's legs.

"Chris! Chris! Help us. Where's Chris?"

Stu heard the sounds of the pig crunching through the bush.

"Bastard has gone after the pig."

Chapter 11

The morning broke clear and fresh making the events of last night seem distant and impossible. But sunlight revealed the extent of Abe's injuries.

"It's deep," Stu said.

For Abe, the wound was an object of morbid curiosity. He grit his teeth, and prodded the swollen skin around the injury. The centre of the incision was still red and moist. Stu realised that the white that he had seen inside the wound was bone.

"Bastard pig would have done me in," Abe said, "if not for you."

Stu dodged the compliment: "You should wash it again so it doesn't get infected."

But Abe would not let it pass.

"Pig would have killed me Stu. If you hadn't got in and whacked it."

"You would have done the same for me," Stu said, "now we got to wash it."

"Can you walk?" James asked.

"Yes," Abe said. He would not be a burden.

"Do you reckon Chris got the boar?" James said.

Chris had been out all night.

"Who gives a shit. He should be back here now," Stu said, "he should have been around to help Abe last night. Instead of chasing a pig we don't need."

A disturbance in the bush caught Stu's attention. A moment later Chris emerged from the trees.

Chris came out backward, dragging a boar by its hind legs. Stu saw that its brown fur was bristled and matted down in places with blood. Its dead eyes were black and vacant. James and Deano moved up the slope to help Chris with the animal.

"You got it. You stuck it," James exclaimed.

Chris seemed not to hear. His body was black; stained with dirt. His features were worn with exhaustion. Blood was smeared over his cheeks and forehead.

"I got it," Chris said.

The anger Stu had carried from last night spilled over.

"Who gives a shit? The boar gouged Abe. The boar you made us chase."

Chris ignored him.

"I tracked its blood through the bush high up into the mountains."

Stu struggled to contain his fury.

"I cornered it," Chris continued, encouraged by the attention of the others, "I got one of my spears into it. Felt a bone break."

Chris' story turned into a pantomime as he re-enacted the blow with an imaginary spear.

"But it charged me. Knocked me down and took off. I went after it. Eventually it stopped and I finished it..."

Stu's fist caught Chris on the chin. Chris stumbled and went down on one knee. Stu stood over him.

"We don't care," Stu shouted, "we didn't need this pig. We weren't hungry and now Abe's leg is busted up. How are we going to get out when he can't walk?"

What happened next was a blur. One moment Chris was on the ground, the next he was up, and Stu was forced back against a tree, a spear beneath his chin. Chris' blood stained face was centimetres from his own.

"I could kill you right now," Chris hissed, "put this spear into you same as I did the pig."

Stu's air came in shallow breaths. He saw the madness in Chris' features. But he was not afraid. It had been him who had stepped in to save Abe last night. He had confronted the pig at the peak of its fury. Chris had merely tracked and speared the boar after it had been weakened by injury.

"You won't," Stu taunted.

Chris lifted Stu's chin with the spear and said: "I took out the pig."

"It was hurt already. It was no achievement. I had already knocked its brain to pieces. If you didn't spear it, it would have died anyway."

Chris shook his head.

"I killed it and I could do the same to you."

"You've said so twice now," Stu countered.

Stu saw something pass in Chris' gaze, a moment of vacant observation where anything might have happened, but once it had passed, Chris' resolve was gone.

In a single fluid motion, Stu gripped the tip of the spear, and turned it away from his face. At the same time he swung Chris around, and slammed him back into the tree, his forearm at Chris' throat. Chris struggled for a moment to escape the hold, but his strength was no match for Stu.

"You don't point that thing at me again," Stu said, "you understand?"

Chris did not respond.

"YOU UNDERSTAND?" Stu yelled.

Chris nodded slowly, if only to get the sequence over with. But Stu kept him pinned to the tree.

"You hunt animals when we need food. That is what you do. That is what you are good at. That is what we need you to do. We need you to hunt for food. But when one of us gets injured that is more important than chasing some stupid pig. We got to stay together. Together we have a chance."

Stu stepped back and Chris stood rubbing his neck and throat. Then Chris approached Abe and knelt beside him.

"Is it bad?"

"A scratch," Abe smiled.

"We should get this thing on the fire," James said standing over the pig.

Deano scurried into the bush and returned with a pile of branches. Stu watched as Chris selected a suitable branch, and using a rock that James had found, he conjured a flame the same way Stu had.

Then Chris cut up the pig. Using the point of a spear he ripped the animal's stomach open. Guts, piles of them, spilled out onto the ground, green and red and black. Then Chris dismembered the animal's legs and ripped flesh from its flank with his spear. He raised his blood stained hands to the others, and swiped them across his face. He laughed, and they laughed because they thought that was the response he wanted. Then he placed the meat on stones in the fire to cook.

Stu joined them when the cooking was complete. Together they sat around the fire feasting on the animal. And for a moment Stu forgot their plight. Thoughts of Lara, Abe's injury, the bush and desolation, were overcome by the supreme pleasure of devouring the boar meat. And as he ate, Stu listened to Chris relive the hunt, and describe how there were many more animals in the bush, enough animals to keep them alive forever.

And slowly Stu saw the power of Chris' game. His words, mixed with the pig meat that they had all craved, were intoxicating. They were hungry, he gave them the pig. They had been exhausted, and he stopped them walking. He was strong; a warrior with his blood stained skin and vine ornaments. And now, Stu thought ruefully, Chris could make fire. Stu had made the first fire, but now anyone could make fire; it was not a special skill.

"We can survive out here forever. We can hunt," Chris said, "we'll never be hungry."

Chapter 12

Leroy's phone vibrated in his pocket. Seated in his living room he muted the television and answered.

"Leroy. I have something for you to do."

Leroy took his feet off the coffee table and sat up straight.

"Yes Mr Volker? How can I be of assistance?"

Leroy had been settling in for a night in front of the television, but Volker was about to change all of that. Volker, the man he never saw, and never knew when he would call or where he was calling from.

"The girl. The one Tatani's team took at the car park. She has seen my face. You know I don't like that Leroy. Tatani has her and is keeping her somewhere. I want you to find her and eliminate her. And I want you to do this personally. Do not involve any others."

Leroy knew about the girl, his own boys had seen her apprehended at the car park. But the fact that she had seen Volker was news to him. He pitied the girl. Leroy had never seen Volker's face. Those that did ended up dead.

"As you wish Mr Volker," Leroy said, "is there anything else?"

"No. That is all."

Volker hung up.

Leroy switched off the television, went to the kitchen and fixed himself a shot of whiskey. Sipping the drink he considered how best to begin his task.

Stu had seen it coming but he was powerless to avert it. The others embraced Chris' world, and refused to walk anymore. It was two days since Chris had returned with the boar, and they had not moved. They spent their time making spears and laying in the shade watching the morning merge into day, into evening, and then night again. In Stu's mind it was synonymous with giving in.

Their activities became habitual and comfortable. As if surviving in the wild was what they were designed to do. James started hunting with Chris. The two of them covering themselves in mud, and dissolving into the trees at night with their spears. Last night they speared a small lizard and cooked it – "surviving off the land" – Chris explained.

They had no thoughts of the future. Of how it might rain and become uncomfortable. How another of them might get injured. How the desolation would wear them down. Stu saw these permutations, but the others did not. They lived in the present. They lived in Chris' world. Normally Chris would have submitted to Stu's authority, but he had become braver with the support of the others.

Stu batted flies out of his face and watched the others, trying to block out the blare of the cicadas. He desperately wanted to move, to save Lara, but splitting the group would be dangerous. But he would not give in to Chris and the others. They were superfluous to his objective. He would save Lara and if that meant going out alone he would. But he also felt compelled to try and make them see the craziness of Chris' games.

Stu approached them in the afternoon while they were making spears.

"We've got to get out," he said.

"There is no way out," Chris said.

"Yes there is," Stu persisted, "if we keep heading east. We'll..."

"We walked and we found shit," Chris countered, "we're not moving anymore."

Stu focused on James, and said: "We should leave."

"No Stu. We're making spears."

"James..." Stu started, but Chris cut him off.

"He doesn't want to move."

"He has a voice," Stu countered, "let him use it you deranged feral. You are not some savage chief. You kill small lizards. You brought down an old female boar that was already half dead. You are an opportunist. Nothing more. And you are too stupid to see that staying out here is the same as dying."

Chris laughed.

Stu turned to Abe. The Big man, out of all of them, had the most to gain from getting out. His injury was agony, and he needed medicine to avoid an infection. But he could barely walk.

"I'd walk if I could," Abe said, "but my leg is agony."

"I will support you," Stu offered.

"How far?"

"As far as necessary."

"Won't work. I'm too heavy," Abe said before he lay down, and closed his eyes.

Then James and Chris left to hunt. As Stu watched them disappear in the trees, he made his decision. Tomorrow he would go out alone.

Stu addressed them in the early morning. He made it simple.

"This waiting around is bullshit. It is weak. It is not what we would have done back home. Back there we would have kept moving. But now you choose to surrender. It's bullshit."

The others did not look at him, but he knew they were listening.

"This game of hunting and gathering is fun but temporary. Abe is injured and needs to get out. What happens if another of us gets injured? What then?"

Silence.

"If we stay out here we die. So I'm leaving now."

This was enough to draw their faces to his. They had underestimated his resolve. The thought of Stu separating himself from them was serious. No one ever spoke about it but they were afraid of the vastness of their outback surrounds. To be lost out here alone was terrifying to all of them. And to set out alone like Stu was proposing was courageous.

"I will remain on the river. You should do the same. In case," Stu paused, trying to find the right words, "in case we need to find each other again. And if I find a place, I'll send people back for you. You can come if you want. I believe there will be civilisation on the river."

Stu waited, to give them a chance, but only for a moment, to wait any longer might have been seen as a weakening in his resolve. Silence.

The landscape was a copy of what they had already covered. Dry and rocky. Hot and desolate. Stu kept close to the river beneath the trees to avoid the exposed plain.

The sense of isolation was profound. He thought at times that he was the last human on the planet. That his existence was insignificant. That the land could just swallow him without a trace. But he would not turn back. Lara was depending on him. He would not fail her.

He pressed on and only stopped walking when night fell, and he could no longer see. The world turned from vibrant red and green, to complete blackness. He made a fire and sat close to it. The cracking of the burning wood was the only sound that intruded on the land. He thought about shouting or singing, making some noise to break the oppressive silence.

When he lay down to sleep he thought of Lara.

Lara had worked two jobs. One reporting to Deano at the Bristol hotel. And the other, on a Friday and Saturday night at the Northern Hotel, where the bar staff were all female and topless. She had not told Stu about her job at the Northern. But one of Stu's drug customers had seen her with her kit off behind the bar, and told him. When Stu asked her where she spent her Saturday nights she had lied and told him that she had taken an extra shift for Deano at the Bristol. So Stu decided to see for himself. He surprised her one Saturday night. He appeared at the bar and asked her to pour him a beer, adding that he wanted to see how her ass looked when she bent over to fetch the glass. She told him to go home. He insisted on getting the beer and said he heard the girls behind the bar here were loose as. She threw the beer in his face, and called security. He got dragged out of the place in a bouncer's headlock.

It exploded when they saw each other at home. Stu called her a cheap whore, and said there was no way he was going to allow his girlfriend to be the eye candy for the marginal male population in Brisbane. Lara described her work as honest compared to his drug racquet. He explained that she might as well pimp herself; at least the money was better. And in this way they tore into each other, dragging each other down, unravelling all the good that they might have together. Stu moved out.

But a week later, returning home for some clothes, Stu found her sitting drunk in front of the television. She was watching the pictures with the sound down. Her eyes were red from crying. He sat down next to her.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," she said, "I could handle embarrassing myself, what does that matter? But not you."

Stu was silent for a moment and then said: "You didn't tell me."

"Look how you reacted. Look at what it did to us. And I did it for us. To get money."

That was the end of it. Lara continued her work at the Northern, because she would never back down, and Stu did not ask her to. And Stu had resolved to get enough money for them to escape the life they were living. That was why he doubled his deliveries. That was why he cut the grass of his supplier. That was why he stashed away three grand, and then burnt it all in a single game of black-jack at the casino. That was why he had several violent drug dealing competitors closing in on him on the outside. And that was why he had done Deano's heist.

He had done all these things for Lara, and now she was trapped in some cell with a pack of lunatics. He had sought to make her safe and realise her dream of a new life. But he had created a nightmare.

But he would make it better. He would get out, and make it right again. And together with Lara, they would leave all of this behind them.

By mid-afternoon hunger was a constant gnawing in Stu's stomach. He thought about the pig. They had feasted on it the night Chris killed it, but they had only eaten a small portion of the beast. The uneaten carcass would now be turning off in the heat. The thought intensified his pain.

Stu wondered what the others were doing. Was Chris feeding them; cooking a lizard, or rabbit or some other rodent? Or had Chris turned truly feral, and gone to live by himself in the bush. It was possible. Chris had become an unhinged individual. Stu wondered if he was just as insane. He had set out alone. He had abandoned the others. No, they had abandoned him. He had urged them to move but they had refused. They had surrendered. Stu considered whether after he got out, he would send anyone back for them. No. They wanted to live off the land. Let them live off the land. Let them die out here.

By evening it was a supreme effort to move. Each step sent jolts of pain through his body, and waves of dizziness through his brain. He urged himself to keep going. He wondered how close to the top of the map he was. But what did it matter, the map was probably a hoax anyway.

That night, falling asleep, Stu reflected on the life he led. He was a drug dealer. He sold substances to people; desperate people who were addicted, and could not help but ask for more. He preyed on their weakness. He used them to grow his business. A business where demand never reduced, only increased, as each customer's addiction intensified.

The man who provided his supplies was a fifty year old ex-prisoner. He had done time for car theft, break and enter, armed robbery or manslaughter, depending on the rumour you believed. He was a callous son of a bitch. Stu's competitors were no better. They were hard individuals; shrewd and willing to defend their patches however necessary. And some of them, realising the extent of Stu's reach had come looking for him. They had started gently, requesting he ease up in his efforts. Stu had ignored them, and they had intensified the blow-torch. His car had been vandalised; tyres slashed, windows smashed, and paint thrown around the interior. A week later he had responded to a customer call only to arrive and find his customer tied to a chair in the kitchen, and one of Stu's competitors stubbing out his cigarette on the poor kid's bare chest. One of the men had come for Stu, and Stu had broken the man's nose before jumping out the kitchen window. He landed in the garden two stories below, but escaped with bruises and a broken thumb.

But despite the pressure, Stu refused to be worked over. Submission was not in his nature. Instead of shrinking his distribution range he expanded it, taking more customers to the north and south.

And his competitors had set the blow torch to high.

Arriving at Lara's work one night Stu had noticed a group of men drinking in the corner of the pub. The men had raised their glasses in greeting, nodding toward the bar where Lara was serving beers. They did not approach him or Lara, but the warning was clear. They knew what mattered to him. Stu kept the incident from Lara, there was no use in alarming her. But the incident made him realise something, He had never meant for Lara to be part of his business. But he knew that was stupid. How could she not be part of it when she was part of him?

He understood he did not deserve protection. He operated outside the law. He associated with the dregs of society. And whatever happened in that world was fair. He could handle it happening to himself, but not to Lara. She did not deserve it. And he had started planning how to unwind his life.

But how do you unravel your life? How do you detach yourself from everything you know?

"You rip off one of the toughest bastards around, and get yourself thrown into the outback," Stu said out loud.

Stu saw the irony. Tatani had achieved exactly what Stu had found impossible. Tatani had made him disappear. No one, not even the heavies that had terrorised him on the outside, knew where he was now.

Tatani had proven disappearing was possible. And when he got out of this place he would find Lara, and make them both disappear again.

Tatani drove non-stop through the night and arrived at Jodie's farm in the morning. The property was silent. Jordie's chopper sat on the cement landing pad to the left of his home. A sharp wind whipped Tatani's face as he stepped out of his 4WD. Gnarly, Jordie's German Shepherd, bounded around the corner of the garden shed, barking and set to kill, but it recognised Tatani's scent and yielded to him, allowing him to stroke its head.

Woken by the commotion Jordie threw open the screen door of his home, and came down the stairs. He was dressed in boxer shorts and a white robe. He shook Tatani's hand.

"You're early."

Tatani appraised Jordie's scant attire.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Jordie looked guiltily back inside, but shook his head.

"Nothing that can't wait."

The headlights of three cars cut through the dawn light. They pulled up next to Tatani's jeep, and nine men got out; Tatani's inner quorum. They threw packs and rifles onto the ground.

"Well shit. Welcome to Hicksville," Simon shouted, "where's my favourite Deliverance freaks?"

"Jordie," Tatani said, "you best put some clothes on and say good bye to the whore you have in there. You're flying in ten minutes."

Before Jordie left, Tatani slipped a pile of notes into his hand.

"You look thin Jordie. Get yourself a big steak. Or else spend it on some finer tottie. Something you're not too ashamed to show off to your friends. You'll get the rest once you've flown us back."

Jordie took the money inside. Karl and the Pitbull passed him coming down the stairs. Both men were bleary eyed.

"You two look like shit," Tatani said.

Then Tatani glared at the Pitbull and said: "Pitbull, what were you thinking? I gave you orders not to touch those men. Drop 'em and leave 'em. No shooting."

The Pitbull had been expecting a dressing down, and he accepted it without comment. Then Tatani turned to the other men, yelling and clapping his hands.

"Get your gear down to the chopper – we're flying in ten."

"Tatani," Karl asked, "what is going on?"

Tatani held up a hand, and said: "Shortly Karl."

Several minutes later the men had loaded their gear inside the chopper and stood on the landing pad as Jordie skirted the aircraft doing his final checks. The men were excited and on edge. Tatani had told them little about their journey, only to pack for a week in the bush.

"A hunt my brothers," Tatani announced, "but we're not after pigs. This time, the prey is human."

Stu woke late in the morning. He walked for a period before he stopped to drink at the river.

It was just as he was splashing water over his face that Stu heard it. More he felt it, a vibration in the air. The sound intensified into a low rumble. Stu scanned the sky, frustrated by the mountains that obscured his view. The sound grew louder, developing into a rhythmic whump – whump – whump that seemed to come at him from all directions.

Then he saw it. A helicopter reared over the mountains ahead of him. The sunlight glanced off its metal fuselage before it vanished behind the mountains to his left. Stu tracked the sounds of the chopper as it moved behind the hills. The sound gained intensity, becoming a rumble like thunder, before receding to a low murmur, as it flew away toward where he had left the others.

Stu stood still trying to make sense of the chopper's appearance.

Every instinct told him to turn around and go back, to follow the chopper; that the appearance of the chopper was significant. It was the first connection with the outside world that he had seen. The chopper might land, and the people on it could help.

But his excitement was tempered by suspicion.

Only Tatani and his men knew they were in the bush. And if it was Tatani's men, what had they come back for? To let them out? Or had they come to finish what they had started?

But Stu decided to take his chances with them. At least the men would have come into the bush with a plan of getting out. And after what Tatani had done to Lara, revenge simmered inside Stu. He wanted to meet Tatani again.

Defying his fatigue Stu started back the way he had come.

The chopper rocked sharply as one, and then the other, landing skid touched down. Simon flung open the rear sliding door, and hot air rushed into the cargo hold. The men climbed out with their gear, and surveyed their surrounds.

Inside the cockpit Jordie pressed a switch on the ceiling, and the engines dropped to a low drone.

Tatani glanced at the pilot and said: "You'll stay contactable, yeah?"

"Always," Jordie replied.

Tatani opened the door, and climbed down to join his men. Simon had isolated Tatani's pack, and pretended to struggle under its weight.

"Did you pack for a year?"

Tatani ignored him and quickly checked his gear. Rifle, knife, ammo, food, walkie talkie. Each of his men had a similar walkie talkie. They would agree a frequency later. Tatani straightened. He felt the oppressive heat, already his shirt had stuck to his skin.

"Confirm the others are fine," Tatani told Simon.

"You lot set?" Simon shouted, "speak now or you're screwed."

No complaints.

Tatani made a twirling motion with his hand. Jordie nodded and the chopper lifted into the air, before streaking away. A heavy silence settled over the outcrop after the roar of the chopper's engines.

"Arse end of everything out here," Simon said.

Tatani rolled his head on his shoulders loosening the muscles in his neck. They had been on the move for many hours, and it was good to be out of the chopper.

The outcrop was roughly a hundred metres in length. It was the same outcrop where Karl and the Pitbull had dropped their prey a week earlier. Everywhere around was a deep red that shimmered in the heat.

So hot. Hell.

The scent of dirt lingered in Tatani's nostrils, conjuring memories of previous hunts. The thrill of stalking. Tracking. Attacking. His instincts focused as he thought about the prey they were to hunt. The prey would be on the river and travelling east.

"This way," he ordered.

Chapter 13

"Bitch could be anywhere. Big city. Little girl. Bullshit."

Tired and hungry, Leroy had lost his usual poise. It was midnight and he was sitting in the back seat of a black Ford Mondeo, crouched, so that his head was below the windows. Breaking into the car had been easy, but waiting in the cramped space between the front and rear seats was a pain in the arse. The interior was a mess and it smelt. It was the type of task Leroy would have outsourced to one of his hired helpers, but Volker had insisted that Leroy take care of things personally.

And all of it for some no name girl. But a girl that was very important to Volker.

Not knowing where to find her, Leroy had decided to lean on Tatani's crowd. And presently one of Tatani's minders was getting his rocks off inside the brothel across the road. Leroy had slipped into his target's car to wait for him to return.

Leroy became instantly alert when Tatani's man emerged from the building several minutes later, his arm wrapped around a brunette as he stumbled up the street. The girl wore a short black dress; tidy body, but her features were too old for Leroy's tastes. Leroy slipped the black balaclava over his head and settled down behind the driver's seat.

The man opened the car door for his girl first and then got inside himself, and fairly ruined his pants when Leroy materialised behind him and pressed a gun to his head. The girl started freaking, screaming and crying.

"Desist with the hysterics woman," Leroy said, "exit the car. Tell anyone and I promise I will find you."

The girl got out and left the scene.

"She doesn't care much for you," Leroy said to the man, "just left you with a psycho like me."

"Screw you."

Leroy produced a knife in his free hand and pressed it under the man's chin.

"You disrespect me again, I slice you open. Let's seek to be civilised. Answer my questions, or else I add your brains to the shit on the floor of this car. Tatani has a girl. Where?"

The man shook his head. "Don't know about no girl."

Leroy ripped the man's cheek open with the knife.

"Now that whore really ain't going to like you."

"Ba – bastard. My face. You cut my face."

"Yes I did you silly shit. Now answer my question. Where is she?"

"Don't know," the man bleated.

"Wrong answer."

"Christ. I don't know. Who are you?"

"Where is Tatani keeping her?"

"Look I don't know who you're after. But if Tatani has her, he'll have someone watching her."

The man was reaching slowly for the handgun taped to the underside of his steering column.

"Where is Tatani?"

"Out of town. He's..."

Those were the man's last words, his sentence dissolving into a cloud of blood and brain. He'd moved fast but not fast enough. He got his gun and swung it half up toward Leroy's face before Leroy shot him. The man toppled forward and what was left of his head slammed into the car horn.

Leroy exited quickly, tucking his gun and balaclava into the rear of his jeans as he strode away. He grimaced as he wiped his bloodied hands on his pants.

"Messy. Most unfortunate."

The men sat around a fire, the light dancing across their faces. They had covered a significant distance during the day, and now they were unwinding. They were in good spirits as they drank from hipflasks and spoke loudly to one another. It was their first night in the bush, away from the pressure of the outside, and a chance to forget about the recent chaos. But they each knew that two of their group should also be with them now, if not for the carnage in the dockland deal.

Tatani thought about the two men he had lost and revenge burnt inside him. But he was confident Raven would unravel things.

Tatani was distracted by his men's conversation.

"Volker is an enigma. No one has seen him. He has no face."

"Dangerous son of a bitch."

"Keeps his hands clean. Bet that shit Leroy don't even know what he looks like."

Tatani did not relish the conversation. Volker was a threat that he could not tolerate. Once he was done out here he would find Volker. And destroy him.

"Bloody hell," Simon said, "Volker is a pussy. Too piss weak to show his face. And if you admire him you have no place with us. Your talk is disrespectful for what we stand for."

"And if you are wrong?" The Pitbull said, "what if he comes for you? Would you have the balls to take him? Words are fine, out here, around friends. But back there..."

"I would take him down, no hesitation. Unlike you Pitbull, I don't wait for instructions. I don't need to be told what to do; when to breathe and shit. You are a machine Pitbull. Someone switches you on and switches you off. You don't think. You don't choose. You do what you're told."

Tatani admired Simon's gall. Few men took the Pitbull on. But it was another example of the fine line that Simon trod. The narrow margin between confidence and disrespect; if he misjudged it, in the wrong situation, he could wind up dead.

The Pitbull had set the point of his knife in the fire coals, and he withdrew it. He licked his thumb and forefinger and pressed them to the metal, creating a cloud of steam.

"A man once spoke to me like that. I used this knife to cut out his tongue."

"Old wives tale," Simon countered.

The Pitbull laughed and said: "Aahh, the balls of youth. Watch I don't cut them off and make a pair of ear studs out of them."

Tatani had heard enough. The sparring was jovial, but with the Pitbull you just never knew.

"It is late. We should turn in. We're moving before first light."

Stu remembered little of the terrain from his outward journey. With no way to measure speed or distance, his only indication was time, and his only gauge of time was the passing of the day, from morning, to midday, to evening and night.

But he kept walking. He used his spear as a walking stick, levering himself forward. He was so weak that the gnawing hunger he had experienced a day ago had become a constant pang that he no longer noticed. In time, the reason he had set out alone, escaped him. He determined that he should have remained with the others. Out here he had no one. And as stupid and feral as the others had become, at least they had each other.

Stu considered that he might not make it back to them. His condition might deteriorate to the point where he could no longer walk. He would stop, curl up, and pass out. Then the land would erase him as if had never been.

But he would not stop. He would crawl. He would reduce himself to a worm, slithering along the ground. He would keep moving.

"Your sight is sharp Karl," Tatani muttered.

Tatani and Karl were standing at the waterline. The mud beneath the reeds was marked with six straight depressions.

"Them?" Tatani asked.

Tatani had already decided what had made the tracks. The prey had stopped here to drink. They had stood in the mud, and the slope had caused their feet to slip. The tracks appeared in pairs. Three pairs. The tracks of most animals would occur in fours, and their claws would have scuffed up the mud. The tracks proved that the prey were moving east, and staying with the water.

Karl nodded. "It is them."

"How old you reckon Karl?"

Karl was a master tracker. He could read the land and see things that other men could not. He pressed his index finger against the base of one of the ruts. The mud gave but no moisture rose to the surface.

"Two, maybe three days."

Chapter 14

Lara heard the key in the lock, and distanced herself from the door. The door swung open and the man appeared holding a box of supplies. The light reflected off his bald head.

"Princess," he said, "your saviour is here."

The man set the box on the ground, and stepped into the room. He looked her up and down. The lump in his throat lifted. His hand shifted inside his pocket.

Lara wanted to run. Scream. Smash the man's face in and claw out his eyes. But she knew she could not. He was too strong. She pressed herself against the wall.

"Day ten princess. Do you respect me yet?"

Silence.

"You should. I'm the one keeping you alive. I stop coming. You die."

He approached her; his eyes never left her body.

"But we wouldn't want that. We wouldn't want you to die. Not yet."

He stopped a metre in front of her.

"You are the most beautiful I've ever had."

His hands moved, mapping the outline of her body in mid-air. Head, neck, chest, hips and legs. Although he was not touching her, Lara felt his hands all over her body.

"Perfect," he breathed, "do I frighten you?"

Lara was breathing fast, tears of terror welling in her eyes.

"A shame. Because I want us to be friends. You are better than the others. Better than these."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pocket-sized photo album. He showed the first photo to her. It depicted a young girl, Lara's age, maybe younger, naked, tied up in a chair, her head resting at a crooked, inhuman angle. Her chest and arms and legs were a myriad of gashes. The man looked at Lara and smiled. He flipped to the next photo, another girl, this one lying on the floor, chained by the ankle to a wall. She too was naked, covered in lacerations, and her body a blackened mess of bruises.

"That one was my favourite," he said, shaking one of the photos, "we got on well until she decided she did not like me anymore."

Lara moaned and shook her head, tears pouring down her face as she edged across the wall, retreating from the man and the photos. But the man followed her, flipping through the remaining photos. Each photo was of a girl. Naked. Violated. Bleeding.

"These girls were once like you princess. So beautiful, so alive and real. But then they started thinking they didn't need me no more and that's when they ended up in here."

He shook the open photo album for effect.

"Sometimes you got to hurt the ones you love."

The man's voice was an icy melody.

Lara was trapped in the corner now. The man stopped in front of her. He muttered to himself, nodding as he regarded her, relishing her fear. He placed the photo album in his pocket. He was breathing fast, stimulated by the photos, and her fear.

"Those ones did not respect me," he breathed, "you must do what I say."

Lara nodded. The man produced a small camera.

"No. No. Please no," Lara cried.

The man patted the air: "Relax princess. I just want a photo. So I can remember you when I am not here. We have other days to take more photos."

The camera flash hurt Lara's eyes. Then the man stopped taking photos and reached out and picked a strand of hair out of her eyes, pressing it back against her forehead. She shuddered at his touch, but was frozen with fear. He leant in, his face centimetres from her own, not saying anything, just watching, his breath like a cold whisper on her lips and nose.

He backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving her.

"Tomorrow," he said as he opened the door, "we can get to know each other better."

When the door closed, Lara slid down the wall and curled up on the floor. She struggled to breathe as her body was racked by spasms of terror. Etched on her brain was one of the photos. A girl laid out like a lifeless puppet in front of the exact same wall Lara sat against now.

"Ain't no such thing as an unidentified animal you stupid dick. All animals have been identified. They got lists."

"I read about it," George said, "tribes in Africa are scared shitless of the thing. They reckon it kills about five thousand natives every year."

The rest of the men laughed.

"Only telling you what I read," George said indignantly, "and I read a shitload more than any of you bastards."

The laughter swelled. Tatani's men were sitting around a fire. The trees crowded close to the clearing; a solid black mass. Empty cans were scattered about the camp.

"Those little Africans you're talking about George," Simon said, "they're being taken by big cats; lions and tigers. Hell, could even be bloody rhinos. Not some unidentified yeti thing, you dumb bastard."

"I read about it," George said stubbornly, taking a swig from his hip flask.

George was a six foot six giant, but possessed the mental powers of a ten year old. He was street wise, smart in so far as learning from his experiences, but confronted with a new situation, and the need to reason a way through it, he fell to pieces. Tatani had met George ten years ago when Tatani had been out-numbered in a suburban bar brawl. Exhausted and with his left wrist fractured, Tatani had been preparing for his final stand when George, with no personal business in the brawl, had thrown himself into the fray. George had demolished three of Tatani's opponents, and sent the other two running for safety. The gesture had not been lost on Tatani who had taken George in and set him up as one of his minders. George was an imposing figure, a handy fighter, and blindly obedient. The slow bastard asked no questions, and did as he was told.

"You're a dopey son of a bitch," Simon spat into the fire, "ain't no beasts in this world except the women Pitbull brings home. Now stop your bitching and back down and accept it."

The others laughed again. Defeated, George prodded the fire with a stick. Red sparks rose into the air.

The talk continued and Tatani remained a silent observer. Tatani enjoyed the way Simon navigated these men. They were older than him but they respected him. Tatani often wondered whether the men paid heed to Simon only because he was his son. Tatani had been careful to ensure that Simon was treated no different to the other men, but it would be natural for the men to think otherwise. But Simon was able to work these men well. What he lacked in foresight he made up for in charisma. And charisma went hand-in-hand with leadership. And foresight would come with experience. And most likely it would not be these men that Simon would be controlling. New, younger men would enter the circle, and they would only know Simon as their leader. And in this way Tatani would transition control to Simon.

"A test," Tatani announced, "this place must be crawling with roos. Target practice."

The men eagerly gathered their rifles and torches.

Lights. Or was his mind playing tricks.

Stu ducked low in the undergrowth. He had no idea how long he had been walking. He had pressed on in the dark, afraid that if he stopped, he might never start again. His mind was clumsy with dehydration and hunger, but he focused on the lights ahead of him.

Suspicion took hold. He knew there should not be people with lights out here. The only people that knew they were out here were Tatani and his men.

Flashlights. That was what they were. The flashlights shifted through the trees close to the river. Then the lights centred on one spot. Gunshots, like whip-cracks, split the night. Stu pressed himself low to the ground. When he looked again the lights seemed closer. They appeared to be converging on his position. He heard voices.

How did they know he was there? Had they seen him before he saw them?

There was more shooting; the booms resounding off the surrounding hills.

Using his elbows, Stu slithered away from the approaching danger. Panic overcame his fatigue as he crawled down to the river, where the scrub was not so thick and he could move with less noise. He glanced over his shoulder. The lights were still approaching, strafing through the trees.

He got up and ran.

Gunshots cracked. He kept running. The water was a silver blur on his left. Ahead was a hill, thick with trees. He would be safer in the trees than on the exposed river bank. He started up the slope. He moved quickly, never looking behind. He tripped in unseen furrows and struggled to maintain his footing on the lose ground. He reached the summit and burst into a clearing.

He glimpsed a shape, an instant before it tackled him.

Stu rolled over, fighting his attacker, battering the unknown head with his fists. But there were numerous hands on him, and Stu realised that his attacker was not one but two. And then abruptly the attack stopped.

"What? It's him."

James' voice and then Abe.

"Shit. Nearly put a spear in him."

Stu sat up.

"Why are you attacking me?"

"We heard shooting. Saw lights. We thought..."

Stu studied them. Their features looked familiar, but at the same time completely foreign to him. Their faces were buried beneath layers of dirt and blood. They held their spears with intent. They were not his friends from the outside, they were something else altogether.

"There are men down there," Stu said, "I was down there close to them. They caught me in their lights. I ran."

They spun toward a rustling sound in the bush and saw Chris emerge.

"It is Tatani," Chris said.

"How do..." James began.

"I went to see," Chris cut him off.

"What are they doing?" James asked.

"Hunting," Chris said matter of factly," hunting us."

"No," James moaned.

"Tatani likes to hunt," Chris said matter of factly.

Stu had heard the rumours on the outside. Tatani the butcher. Tatani the executioner. Tatani the hunter.

"That's why they gave us water and food, to keep us alive."

"Stu," Abe said, "when you walked, did you find a way out?"

Stu sought to maintain Abe's hope.

"No, but the terrain looked promising, the river met with other creeks and became wide. If I kept going there would have been something. But I saw a helicopter and followed it back this way. I thought it a more likely way out. And the men I saw, they're..."

They ducked instinctively as a volley of gunshots ripped through the night. They saw the lights darting in the darkness down below, the flashlight beams distorted by the trees. And further upstream there was a stationary light, throbbing in the darkness; a fire.

"We should move," Stu said, "we need to put some distance between us and them. To give us time to plan what to do next."

"Bullshit. We should hunt them," Chris said, "we can kill them."

Stu determined that Chris had become even more deranged in his absence. Hunting animals, hunting people, there was no difference to him.

"They have guns and lights," Stu said, "we have sticks and stones. We don't know how many of them there are."

James lost his nerve. The weak individual he had been on the outside overcame the warrior he had pretended to be.

"Why are they here? I don't want to die. I don't..."

Chris cut him off.

"Stop crying James. They are not coming for us tonight. They are hunting something else. Roos maybe. But you do not deserve a spear, give it to me."

James tossed his spear on the ground, and stepped back from it as if it were poisoned. Chris picked it up and faked a jab at him, and James recoiled in shock.

"Stop this shit," Stu said, "we need to work together."

Confronted with impending danger, the others took comfort from Stu's direction. He had set out alone, trying to find a way out for all of them. He had spent days and nights in the bush alone. That had taken courage. They were happy he was back. And they were happy to do as he told them.

"They did not come this way."

Tatani squinted at Karl. It was midday and the sunlight hurt his eyes. He was sweating and the moisture collected in the folds of his forehead. The riverbank was steep and covered with stones that had fallen from higher up the slope.

"You are sure?"

Karl nodded.

"The earth is untouched. Their tracks would be obvious in these loose stones."

Tatani wiped his forehead. His head hurt. It had not been good a day. It had started badly, and got progressively worse.

Earlier, hung-over and tired from the late night shooting and drinking, the men had overslept. Tatani might have rested now, but he wanted the men to understand that this was a hunt and not a game of skirmish.

And to compound Tatani's frustrations, they had lost the prey's tracks. He straightened and massaged his temples. Simon joined them.

"Are you getting senile in your old age Karl," Simon said, "do you need glasses?"

Karl did not respond. It was always delicate dealing with Simon when Tatani was around.

"Do you have an opinion Simon?" Karl said.

Simon shrugged and said: "Only that this hunt is dragging."

Tatani shook his head. That was Simon; impatient and disengaged with any sequence that took more than two minutes to transpire. It was a dangerous trait that Tatani would correct. It might save his son's life.

"This hunt has days left in it Simon. Suck it in and get used to it."

Tatani turned his mind to the problem of their prey. Could they have hidden some place and waited for them to pass? Could they have crossed to the other side of the river? No. It was too deep. But they might have swam? Tatani struggled to think.

What if they have eluded us?

Tatani breathed deeply. Things were in hand. It was a hunt and therefore it was unpredictable. He glanced at Karl.

"If they did not come this way, then where else?"

Karl looked across the river, and then assessed the outcrop behind them.

"They are afraid. They would not hide and then backtrack. But this," he kicked at the stones, "would be very hard on their feet and the sloping bank is difficult to manage."

Tatani saw where Karl was heading.

"They climbed?"

"Maybe."

"We're climbing," Tatani announced to the others.

"In this heat? That slope?" Tedo, one of the men said, sitting against a tree.

"What did you say?"

Tedo did not look at Tatani.

"You lazy fat bastard."

Tatani lifted his knee into Tedo's face. Tedo went down clutching his nose and mouth.

"Get on your feet," Tatani ordered, "the rest of you come on."

The men shouldered their packs, and started up the slope. Simon lifted Tedo up and shoved him forward.

"Jesus, how did you find this?"

Tatani was standing over the remains of a fire. Beside the fire lay the carcass of a small rodent. There was the smell of freshly burnt wood.

"Came up here to take a dump. Pure chance," one of Tatani's men said.

They were halfway up the southern slope. The rest of the men were sitting in the shade by the river.

"How old?" Tatani stepped aside, allowing Karl some space.

Karl placed his finger in the ashes. The ashes at the top were the same temperature as the air, but deeper they were warm.

"A day – half a day. Most likely they made this fire last night."

Tatani looked around. They were in a low valley surrounded by mountains. The mountains and trees would have masked the smoke until it had dispersed. Tatani knelt over the carcass of the animal. Only the head and bones were left. It was smaller than a wallaby, and its head was mouse-like. Tatani placed two fingers under the base of the animal's head, and they came away with blood on them. He smelt the blood. It did not carry any distinct odour.

"It is fresh."

Tatani straightened. The prey was eating. They were surviving. Maybe they were not as weak as he thought.

And how had they captured the animal? Rodents like this were quick, agile; they could get into places that a person could not. Had they taken it with their bare hands? Maybe they were desperate enough. Or had they come across the animal by chance injured and half-dead from some other attack?

There were many questions but one fact was clear. They were close.

The lads moved quickly. The sun had set behind them, and it was difficult to see in the gloom. They had moved constantly east pushing through the thick scrub close to the waterline, stopping only to drink. They took turns supporting Abe and it had sapped their strength. They were exhausted but they pressed on. Stu had come this way before and failed to find civilisation, but they were driven by the danger behind. The men had guns and equipment and supplies. The men were fresh and prepared for the bush. The men could move fast.

They stopped at the base of the next mountain.

"What now?" James asked.

Stu looked around. It was useless walking further in the dark. But they could not sleep here. Tatani was following the river, and he might stumble on them in the night.

"We climb and then we sleep," Stu said.

They ascended the mountain and surveyed the land to the west. The earth below was dark. No lights. But a grey veil smeared the horizon.

"Smoke," Stu said, "they have lit a fire."

"They are camping and are no longer moving," Chris said, "we should sleep."

Raven sat calmly in the driver's seat of the white Subaru Impreza. He had rented the car under a false name; one of the many names he used, and paid for it with cash. The assistant had requested a credit card imprint for insurance purposes; Raven had paid a two thousand dollar cash deposit instead.

He was presently parked on Faulkner Street. It was midday, and the Brisbane entertainment precinct was flush with people. Suits mixing with casuals in a swarming mass of humanity. Raven knew he did not belong with either group. His place was below them, crawling through the seedy layer of society. A sewer rat, chasing other sewer rats. But he liked it that way.

Raven ran a hand through his black hair, and adjusted his sunglasses. He scowled with distaste and wound down the window and spat into the gutter. He was parked four spaces down from the Colonial Hotel. Jack Kandy had entered it an hour ago and Raven was waiting for him to exit. He knew that Kandy would be having lunch in the Regis restaurant upstairs.

Raven had been trailing Jack Kandy for several days. He had followed Kandy everywhere, employing different disguises so as to keep close to his target. Discretion was key to Raven's work. It kept him close. It kept him alive.

Raven could only guess at the nature of Kandy's dealings. He had recognised several of the men Kandy had met. Don Potter, Yao Ming and Dan Cutler; all similar Brisbane gutter criminals. They dealt with each other publicly, but plotted in private how to rip each other off. Raven knew the game. He had been part of it for a long time before becoming the mercenary he was today.

Kandy went nowhere by himself. Raven had identified at least eight minders that Kandy used in rotation, three of them with him at any one time. They were easy to spot; burly, dumb looking individuals that accompanied Kandy on his jaunts around town. They seldom spoke to him, preoccupied with what was happening around them. Kandy paid these men to be his eyes and his ears. Raven wondered whether Biggs, the dealer from the casino, had got word to Kandy that someone was sniffing around the bloodbath in the Docklands.

The watchers added a layer of complexity to Raven's task, but he would find a way through their protective ring. Raven's first task however, was to identify a pattern in Kandy's behaviour. Once he had worked out when and where Kandy moved; his favourite brothel, his favourite drinking hole, his favourite club, then Raven could lay a plan.

But to date the only pattern Raven had detected in Kandy's behaviour was his preference for lunch at Regis restaurant.

Raven became instantly alert as the ground floor door to the hotel swung outwards and Kandy trotted down the stairs. Kandy was a tall man, and moved with the confidence of a well protected individual. With three minders, one positioned either side of him and one behind him, Kandy crossed the footpath to a waiting car. He slipped into the backseat. A single minder climbed into the driver's seat, while the remaining two got into the car behind.

Then unexpectedly, another man got in the backseat of Kandy's car. The man had appeared out of nowhere. But Kandy had clearly been expecting the visitor, as the minders in the car behind did not react. The whole sequence had occurred so quickly that Raven had been unable to get a good look at the man. Raven sat back in his seat, his eye line slightly below the steering wheel. In time the backdoor of Kandy's car opened, and the visitor stepped out and started quickly down the street. Kandy drove off with his minders trailing him, but Raven waited to get a look at the man who had just exited Kandy's car.

"Well," Raven said aloud, "Maurice Scrubby, Tatani's trader. What the business do you have with Jack Kandy?"

Raven had purposefully not told Tatani about Biggs' information that there was a mole in his team, concerned that Tatani might act impulsively and jeopardise any chance Raven had of rooting out the mole. But with Maurice, one of Tatani's trusted advisors, dealing with the opposition, Tatani needed to know. Raven got his mobile out and dialed Tatani's number.

Tatani received Raven's call when the men were preparing camp. He moved discreetly into the bush.

"You have news Raven?"

"Some. Small fish so far but they are getting bigger. I located one of the hired drivers from the dockland deal. Biggs. As a participant he is irrelevant. But he said Jack Kandy was involved."

Tatani digested the information. Kandy was one of his known opponents. To date Kandy had confined his activities to the north of the city so that their paths rarely crossed. But what was Kandy doing? Expanding his position?

"Kandy might have been involved but he would not have been behind it," Tatani said.

"Maybe. We shall find out, I have him under surveillance. But there is more. I pressed Biggs as to where Kandy got his information," Raven paused, choosing his next words carefully, "he said it came from your side, from one of your men."

Tatani's features tightened.

"What exactly did he say?"

"Said one of your side is a mole. Didn't know who, but said your side had a leak."

Tatani steadied himself against a tree.

"Bullshit."

"That is what he said."

As destabilising as Raven's news was, Tatani could not discount it. He reconsidered all he had learnt about the events in the docklands. How the opposition had known the location of the second get-out car. How they had surrounded it. It reeked of a tip-off. But his men were tight and loyal. Why would any of them turn against him?

"You said there were two things?"

"Maurice. Your man. I saw him with Kandy."

"The rat, I'll eliminate him now!"

"Easy Tatani. He may not be the mole. You approach him now without proof you risk a very destabilising situation. If he is the mole he will leave a clue. I'll be watching him. Let me get to the bottom of it before you confront him."

Tatani nodded. His response had been impassioned, Raven's, being one-step removed, was considered.

"Alright Raven. We do it your way. But I want that rat bastard. If it is Maurice I want to know. If it is one of the men out here with me I want to know. But I want him quick."

Tatani hung up and stood, brooding in the darkness. The news cut to his heart. A mole was like a disease. Unchecked it could destabilise the entire group. In a way he hoped it was Maurice. Maurice was not part of his inner circle and could be easily eliminated. But as Raven said, there was no proof. And without proof the rat could just as easily be one of the men with him in the bush.

They saw the men clearly for the first time when they woke. They were strung out in a line like black ants on the land below. Close.

"We can't keep running," Chris said, "they'll get us in the end when we're weak and can't defend ourselves."

Stu was silent as he watched the black shapes crawl across the land. There was merit in Chris' logic. And to fight appealed to Stu's instincts. On the outside he had never been shoved around, and more inclined to fight. But to fight the men they needed weapons, something more than branches and stones.

"We shouldn't fear them," Chris persisted, "we can spear them."

Chris' words sparked an idea in Stu's mind; something in between fighting and running.

"They are following our tracks," Stu said, "scratches in the dirt, broken branches, grass pressed the wrong way. We make a diversion."

"Where the hell have they gone?"

Tatani was fuming. It was hot and humid beneath the trees. The men had followed the tracks down to the river and then across the water using a natural bridge of silt, and up the hillside. The tracks had been clear on the way up the mountain, but then they had ended abruptly. Tatani had ordered the men to disperse, fanning out, to cover all of the surrounding ground. They had searched for several hours without success.

Things were coming unstuck. They had wasted many hours. And one of his men, several maybe, were traitors. Suspicion weighed Tatani down.

Tatani leant against a tree. This was not supposed to have happened. He had assumed that the prey would stay with the river.

"Bastards have vanished," Simon said. His arms were cut and bleeding from smashing through the bush.

"Maybe they are still on the river?" Karl suggested.

"What?" Tatani raged.

"They might have used the same path down the mountain as they took coming up."

Tatani studied the track they had used to ascend the mountain. Had this really been a hoax to deceive them?

"We descend," Tatani announced.

Down at the waterline it was impossible to distinguish the footprints of the prey from their own, but one thing was clear; the footprints only headed in one direction.

"What is going on?" Tatani cursed, "where did they go?"

Karl shrugged.

"Give me answers, Karl. What does this all mean?"

Chapter 15

The land along the river was the same as it had been for most of the morning; flat, with the trees pressing up tight to the waterline. Reeds fringed the water's edge and obscured the rocks and mud.

Only Tatani, Karl and Simon were searching. The others had given up and pretended to search, keeping to the strip of shade beneath the trees.

Lazy bastards. And one of you is a mole.

Since receiving Raven's news Tatani looked at his men differently. He studied the subtleties in their behaviour. How they addressed him. How they searched. He saw those who conversed out of earshot of him. He noted who spoke with who. Could two of them collude against him? The suspicion was draining. He could not let it persist. Raven had stopped him confronting Maurice, but that did not stop him confronting the men out here with him.

But that was for later.

Right now there was a very real possibility that the prey had escaped. It had been easy tracking the prey when they were behaving predictably. But now it appeared that the prey might have left the river. They might have backtracked to the west. They might be hiding high up in the mountains. To lose the prey was unthinkable.

Simon approached Tatani and said: "I have something."

Tatani got Karl and they followed Simon upstream to a thick section of reeds. Behind the reeds was a rock slab. And on top of the rock, clear, as if they had been painted on, were footprints.

"Now that ain't aboriginal artwork," Simon said proudly, "that's the footprints of five soon to be dead individuals."

Tatani touched a print with his index finger.

"Dry dirt. How? What?"

"The river is not deep in this section," Karl said, "they waded. That is why there were no tracks returning across the river."

"But they left prints here," Tatani said.

Karl had thought about this.

"They did not intend to leave the prints. They expected the moisture to evaporate. And it did. But they did not consider the dirt that would be left."

"Well done Sherlock Holmes," Simon said, "next time all you got to do is find the prints then you'll be a real tracker."

Tatani patted the air and said: "Humility and respect Simon."

"Those sons of bitches are cunning," Tatani continued, "they used this ploy to buy some time. But that's good. Just make it more satisfying when we bring them down."

Maurice moved quickly down Hinkler Street. He spent more time looking behind and around him than straight ahead. It was three thirty and the street was awash with shoppers. Raven followed Maurice from a distance, dressed in a grey t-shirt and blue cap, blending with the crowd.

Raven had been watching Maurice all afternoon. For most of it Maurice had remained holed up in his apartment. He had surfaced twice, once to purchase a drink from the corner store, and the other to make a call from a public pay-phone. But now he was on the move.

Maurice unexpectedly entered a jewellery store. Raven knew the store. It was owned by a diamond appraiser that Raven had met once at Tatani's home.

Raven took a seat in a café opposite the store. Using a napkin he discreetly expelled the excess saliva that was annoying him. Then he focused again on his target. He could see through the clear glass windows. The shop was empty, except for Maurice and the owner. They were talking across a glass display cabinet. Maurice appeared agitated, gesturing with his hands. The owner seemed dismissive. Then Maurice lunged across the cabinet and grabbed the owner by the shirt front. The owner shoved him off and pulled a gun from beneath the counter. Maurice recoiled, then exited the shop, slamming the door.

The men had stopped and were preparing camp. It was late afternoon. The sun was low and the western sky was bright red. As the men were washing, Karl gestured for Tatani to join him higher up the mountain.

Once there, Karl handed Tatani his binoculars and said: "Trees on the northern bank. About three quarters of the way to the mountains."

Tatani looked through the binoculars. At first the world was a red blur, but he adjusted the focus and the land came into detail. And then he saw them.

He closed his eyes thinking what he saw was an apparition, but when he opened his eyes the vision remained.

"Sons of bitches."

The prey were walking beneath the trees; five of them, naked from the waist up. The legs of their pants had been ripped away. Their feet were bare except for one who retained his boots. They were thin. The time in the bush had left its mark. Tatani saw that one of the kids was injured.

He remembered that kid. The big one, the giant. His left leg was bandaged below the knee and he used a tree branch for support. Tatani wondered how the kid had been injured. Fell off a ledge? Attacked by an animal?

Tatani lowered the binoculars and said: "They are alive and moving well."

"We can take them now," Karl said, "a kilometre. That is nothing."

Karl was right but it would be too quick. Too clumsy. Tatani wanted to attack the prey with precision.

"No. There is no rush. One of them is injured. They cannot get far. We take them tomorrow in the daylight. It will make for a better show."

Karl nodded and made to descend the hill, but Tatani stopped him.

"Karl. I will ask you a question now. I want you to look me in the eye when you answer. Are you the traitorous bastard that is selling me out?"

"Tatani. What? I don't..."

Tatani held up his hand.

"Just answer the question."

Karl held Tatani's eye and said: "I am not."

Tatani studied him for a long moment, and Karl truly believed that if his features had betrayed the slightest deceit Tatani would have killed him on the spot.

"That is good Karl. I needed to know. My man on the outside investigating the docklands has learnt that one of ours is giving information to the opposition."

Tatani knew it was a risk entrusting Karl with this information, he could be the mole, but Tatani needed support. He needed more eyes and ears. Simon, as family, was clean, and Karl had been with him for over a decade. The thought of Karl turning against him was unthinkable.

"That is a disgrace Tatani."

"Yes it is and I want to root out this mole Karl. I want you to watch the men. You see and hear things that I don't. And tonight I will confront them."

The sun was low and their shadows were long on the ground. Their muscles ached, and their brains were clouded from dehydration. They struggled to see the spaces between the trees in the dim light. But afraid of the men they kept moving.

Stu could hear Deano mumbling behind him. The small man had been talking to himself all afternoon. Seemingly berating Tatani.

"...atani... oot... oot... us.... atani... us... out....et... out... live."

Dumb bastard should save his energy.

They were approaching a rocky section devoid of trees. The bank dropped sharply to the river. The group stopped, confused about where to go next.

"It will be dark soon," Stu said, "we need to rest. We can sleep at the top of the outcrop, in case they come along the river in the night."

They climbed the slope and collapsed at the summit while Stu went to the western edge to check if Tatani was coming. The sun had set and the plain was difficult to see. Stu did not detect any movement. He returned to the others.

"They have stopped. Therefore we can stop."

"We can not keep doing this," Chris said, "look at us. We're wasted. Useless. They're wearing us down."

Chris' words triggered the same instinct in Stu that he had repressed earlier; the recognition that there was another way, a violent way, of resolving things. Stu had never run from anyone on the outside. He had used brains and muscle to solve his problems. Why should he run now? But this was different. Fighting, when there was no chance of winning, was not brave, it was stupid.

"Suppose we stop," Stu said, "what do we do then? Fight them? With what? Bare hands, sticks, stones, against their guns?"

"We can take them at night. When they can't see us," Chris countered, "we have spears. We may not kill all of them. One might be enough. The others might leave."

Once again, Chris' words formed an appealing vision. Stu would love to stick a spear in Tatani, for Lara. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe fighting was the way. But not yet. If they kept moving they still might get out. Stu would fight, but only when there was no other option.

"Listen to you. Talking about killing. They are people. They are not the animals you stalk after dark."

"They are no smarter than animals," Chris replied.

"They intend to kill us," James cut in.

Stu was quiet.

Kill or be killed.

Where had he heard those words before? A book? A movie?

"Chris is right," Abe persisted, "they are out here to kill us."

Abe's words registered with Stu. On the outside Abe's judgment had been more assured than that of the others. But that was all Abe had right now, words. Injured, his muscle would count for little.

"And how do you propose to fight them Abe," Stu said, "smack them with your walking stick?"

"Talk to him. Maybe he listen," Deano interrupted.

Stu glared at Deano. Deano's face twitched, and he beat it with his palms.

"Ta – Ta – Tatani," Deano stammered, "we talk to him. He'll let us out."

"He's out of his mind," James said.

"Talk to him Deano?" Stu said.

"Let us out," Deano mumbled.

Chris laughed.

"Bullshit Deano. You haven't spoken for a week. That's a shitload of time to come up with something as stupid as this."

"We talk to him," Deano persisted, getting agitated, "talk to Tatani. Let us out. No more walking!"

Chris lunged at Deano. He struck Deano in the side of the head, knocking him down. Then he pinned Deano's arms down with his knees. Deano wailed as Chris pressed the point of his spear against his neck. Chris' voice was a low rasp.

"No one is talking to Tatani you stupid bastard."

Chris pressed his knees into Deano's arms making Deano shriek before he got off him. Deano curled into a ball, gasping and struggling to breathe.

"We stay here tonight," Stu said, "but we set a watch. If we see Tatani coming we get up and move. I'll take first watch. Now go to sleep."

Tatani waited until the eating was done then he confronted his men.

"We have a problem."

They stopped talking and watched him.

"One of our group is a mole."

Commotion. Disbelief. Confusion.

"Yes. A traitor. A disloyal pig. Someone has been giving information to the opposition."

"Bullshit," Simon said, "impossible."

"Is it," Tatani countered, "every man has a price."

There was no more talk. Just the hiss of the fire as Tatani eyed the men.

"But I'm a reasonable man. I know a man may be swayed by temptations. Money, women, self preservation, these things can cloud a man's values. So confess now, come clean, and we'll listen to your story, and you might be spared."

The men looked at each other. Searching for a fault in another's features that might be interpreted as guilt. George's dopey voice broke the silence.

"How you know this Tatani? Why you so sure? I mean we're all mates here. We're tight."

Tatani glared at him.

"I've got someone investigating what happened in the docklands. Two of our group were killed because someone sold information to the opposition. It seems, George, we're not as tight as you think."

"Hell," Simon said, "a rat on the ship. Time for some rat kill."

Tatani had his knife out, and was twisting the blade this way and that, letting the firelight catch on the smooth blade.

"My offer of amnesty ceases tonight," Tatani said, "after that, when I find the rat who is doing us over, he is dead. I'll gut him like a pig. I want you all to think and consider what you've seen recently. What have you seen the others doing? Has there been anything out of the ordinary? Anyone mixing with our competitors, or getting cosy with a fringe player? Think. Remember. The dirty rat does not deserve to be protected. Expose him and then we're clean again."

The Pitbull spat in the fire.

"Bastard. You better pray Tatani finds you first."

Tatani allowed the Pitbull's words to sink in before he smiled, his entire manner changing.

"We cannot let the weakness of one destroy the power of the many. Be at ease. The rat will be found. The cat I've got on the outside is closing in."

Chapter 16

Stu stirred half asleep. He felt the rocks pressing into his back, and warmth on his face and chest. A red glow penetrated his eyelids.

Shit.

The sun was already high in the sky.

He stood up. The others were sleeping. James was sitting against a raised section of rock asleep with his chin on his chest.

Stu shook Abe.

"Get up. We got to move."

He kicked James and shook Chris by the shoulder. "Wake up. Come on."

"This is so bad," Stu pointed at James, "you were on watch but you let us sleep."

"I didn't mean t..."

"Well you did," Stu said.

Stu breathed deeply calming himself. Blaming each other would not help. They had overslept, that was done. And was it really James' fault? Oversleeping was always a risk. Walking day after day, hungry, exhausted, their bodies had needed more sleep.

"Where's Deano?" Chris asked.

Deano's shoes were beside a tree, but he was gone.

"Crazy bastard could be anywhere. But what about Tatani?"

Stu ran to the edge of the mountain. The plain below had already started to blur behind a heat haze. Stu saw the men five hundred metres west of the outcrop. Their figures were stark black against the red of the plain.

"They're out there," Stu said when the others joined him.

"Oh shit," Abe muttered.

"We got to leave now," James said.

"But where's Deano?" Stu asked.

Deano was mad but a bond remained. It was all of them versus Tatani.

Chris pointed at the plain. "There."

Stu saw the figure, tiny, against the vast expanse of red. For an instant Stu hoped that the figure was not Deano, but one of Tatani's men moving ahead of the others. But the figure was moving in the opposite direction.

"Bastard has gone to talk to them."

All at once Stu remembered how Deano had been; not in the bush, but back home. He had been a druggo but normal enough. He had been a mate. They should have done more to protect him.

"Bastard is going to tell them where we are," Chris said.

At that moment the men stopped on the plain. There was a flurry of movement and several of the men drew rifles.

Deano was in pain. His legs were spasming and making it difficult to move. He wanted the men to see him. If they saw him they might come to him and let him out of the bush. Then there would be no more running. No more hunger and thirst. He could get a hit of ice, and stop the pain.

"... ani... mi... frie..."

"le... out..."

He tripped in a ditch, staggered, balanced himself and kept moving. He smiled when he saw two men approaching him.

The two men Tatani had dispatched dragged Deano in and dumped him in front of Tatani. Tatani regarded Deano as if he were an apparition.

He was all bone. His shoulders and arms were covered in grey sores where the skin had blistered from the sun. When he breathed the skin stretched tight across the thin bars of his ribs. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes seemed to be set well back inside his head. He mumbled incoherently.

Simon thrust his rifle into the kid's face. The kid rolled over. Simon went for him again but Tatani stopped him. It was Simon's way of exhibiting power, but against an unarmed kid it would be perceived as opportunistic.

Tatani surveyed the kid, he was disgusted but proud. He had made the kid like this. A week in the bush; no food, no shelter, and this was the result. Tatani crouched.

"You look disgraceful."

The kid was silent.

"You look like shit and you stink. Do you know that?"

Tatani recognised him as the one that the Pitbull had knocked unconscious the night at Jermal's shed. The kid reached for him and Tatani shoved him away.

"Why are you here?" Tatani demanded.

Silence.

"Pitbull," Tatani said, "make this deadshit speak."

The Pitbull punched the kid in the face. The kid moaned and fell down. The Pitbull punched him again and again. The kid wailed and covered his head with his hands, so the Pitbull started on his stomach and ribs.

"Enough Pitbull," Tatani commanded, "we want him speaking. Not dead."

The kid groaned on the ground. Blood flowed from his face and forehead.

"Now talk to me," Tatani commanded.

The kid's mouth opened and closed but failed to form words. Tatani turned to the others.

"Rifle."

Karl handed it to him, and Tatani positioned the muzzle against the kid's forehead.

"Talk to me."

The kid edged back moaning.

"Talk you shit," Tatani ordered, following him with the gun, "what is your name?"

"Deano."

"Why are you here?"

Deano shook his head.

"Stupid kid is so far gone," Tatani cursed.

"Please," Deano bleated.

Tatani tugged at his ear as if he had missed what Deano had said. "What?"

"Help. Please."

The other men snickered. Tatani held up his hand for silence.

"Please."

Deano swiped blood from his mouth.

Tatani shook his head. "Help? How?"

"Out – ge... out... Ple..."

Tatani laughed.

"Let you out? Why would we do that? We came here to hunt you. We intend to kill you."

Tatani pointed the rifle at Deano. "Run!"

Deano did not move.

"Run!" Tatani shouted and kicked him away, "run!"

But Deano refused to run. Instead, he knelt in the dirt and said the strangest thing.

Tatani raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Diamonds," Deano said and pointed behind him to the east.

Tatani laughed.

"Diamonds. He's got diamonds. He's a jeweler."

The men laughed. Tatani glared at Deano and said: "Well show me what you got?"

"iamonds – iamonds – iamonds," Deano bleated over and over, pointing back the way he had come.

"Kid's crazy," Simon said.

"You don't have any diamonds," Tatani said, "but you've got a hell of an imagination."

Tatani smashed Deano in the face with his rifle, then lifted him by the hair and threw him away.

"Run you piece of shit!"

Deano staggered a few paces, and when he appeared to be stopping Tatani shot at the ground near his feet. Deano froze and Tatani shot again, this time close to Deano's head. Deano shrieked and ran.

"That's it you son of a bitch. Run."

Tatani let the kid run across the plain. The broken form stumbled over the rocks as Tatani assessed the distance.

A hundred and fifty metres – give or take.

It was the kind of shot most people would use a telescopic sighter for. But Tatani refused to use a sighter. The shot was to be an exhibition of his skill. He crouched and set the rifle in the crook of his shoulder. The other men got in behind him, trying to live the shot with him. Trying to see what he saw.

Tatani's instincts took over. He shut one eye and squinted with the other. The sun's glare was an annoyance as he sighted down the barrel. Measurements and angles occurred automatically in his brain. Aim high. Factor the slight incline in the land. Allow for the bullet's flight path. Friction will slow the bullet making it curve down more steeply the further it flies.

Deano leapt up on to the rock shelf. The soles of his feet were cut and bleeding, but he did not feel any pain. Everything around him was a blur. It had been a mistake to approach Tatani. He did not want to die. But ahead was the edge of the rock shelf. He intended to jump off the edge. He might injure himself on the rocks below, but still get into cover before the men came after him.

The ground close to his left exploded before the trailing crack of the gunshot reached him. He got several metres ahead before a bullet pinged off the rocks to his right. He stumbled but kept running.

He saw the edge clearly now; he could measure the distance in paces.

Eight... seven... six...

Tatani had made a show of it, shooting left and right of the prey. But now things were silent. The men knew what was coming.

Tatani settled himself, breathing deeply. He watched the distant figure blurred in the heat haze.

Back. Between the shoulder blades.

The bullets he was using would expand on entering; a small half-inch hole in the back, but an exit wound the size of a brick. The kid would be dead before he hit the ground.

_Crack_.

There was a moment where nothing happened; the bullet's flight time. And then, far away in the distance, the kid lurched forward, the impact of the bullet forcing his arms out wide as if he were flying, then he dropped and was gone.

"Bloody hell," Simon said, "bastard flew off the edge of something."

Tatani watched the space where Deano had been.

"Come on. Let's go check the damage."

Stu lay stunned on the ground. The sequence played over again and again in his mind; Deano flying, arms out and chest forward in a position that was too forced to be natural. And then the delayed wallop of the gunshot.

Strangely, Stu always knew that this would happen. That Tatani would catch up with them. But he had dared to hope that they would escape.

Stu looked down and saw that the men were close to the rock shelf.

"We have to get out of here now."

"Dead as dogshit."

"Busted his neck and cracked his head."

The men were standing at the edge of the rock shelf. Deano's body lay on the rocks below like a discarded puppet. One arm was bent above his head like a chicken wing. His head hung back at an angle that suggested his neck was broken. There was blood on the rocks around the body.

"Blew him over the edge," Karl assessed.

Tatani nodded, but he was annoyed. The way the body was lying, side-on, it was impossible to see the entry or exit wounds.

"Come on," he instructed, "that's one. There's four more."

Tatani led them to the top of the outcrop, where they started east across the summit. Halfway across Simon found a pair of shoes.

"Bastard left these behind. Thought he could run faster without them!"

Chapter 17

Lara's first reaction to hearing the man outside the cell was strangely, relief. Locked in solitary confinement she needed human contact. But when she saw him, she remembered what he was, and what he had done to the other girls in his photos. Relief turned to fear.

The man set a box of supplies down just inside the door, and lay a fresh towel on top of the box. Then he straightened and assessed her. She was standing against the far wall.

"You are afraid of me aren't you?"

Lara did not respond.

"You should not fear me. Respect me, but don't fear me," the man said, "you will be much better if you don't fear me."

Then he frowned.

"You look thin. Are you eating all that I bring you?"

Lara was deeply terrified of him. He was strong. If he tried to take her she would kick and gouge and scream. She would do everything to stop herself ending up like one of his other girls. But she knew that her strength was nothing compared to his. And more than his strength, it was what was going on inside his mind that frightened her. The thoughts of a deranged mad man. A mad man that killed and tortured girls and carried the evidence around in a photo album.

"I want you to take your top off."

Lara's joints were like liquid.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Do as I ask?"

"Please. No."

The man approached and Lara found herself pressed into the corner of the room. Lara sensed a change in his demeanor. He had become suddenly focused. She slapped his hand away when he reached for her face. She bit his finger when he lifted her chin.

"Bitch."

He placed his forearm across her throat and pinned her to the wall. While she gasped for air he ripped the buttons of her blouse apart, exposing her bra underneath. He held her there for a period, her vision wavering from lack of oxygen, and then he removed his arm and she slumped to the floor, sucking heavily for breath.

Then his face was suddenly very close. His eyes looked into hers, his head tilting left and right as if trying to see into her soul. When he spoke, his tone was different, almost apologetic, as if the violence had been some great accident.

"I wanted only to see you."

He slid her blouse off both shoulders, arranging it in what to him was some sensual position. Lara was too groggy to stop him. He had his camera now, and he took several photos. The flash leapt off the concrete walls. He assessed the images on the digital screen, smiled, and muttered his approval. Then he reached down and drew her blouse back together.

"Thank you. Tomorrow we will take some more. And the day after that some more, maybe, if we are not tired of each other by then."

Fear propelled them as they moved constantly, pausing only to drink. Stu could not be certain, but he sensed that they were now in territory beyond where he had searched alone. The river had become wide and its current swift. They moved until the light dimmed, and they were forced to stop. Then they moved inland away from the river and lay down, too exhausted to eat.

Abe said: "I should have stopped Deano."

"We couldn't do anything," Stu said.

"We should have tried," Abe persisted.

Stu knew it was the truth. Deano had needed help and they had abandoned him.

"They blew him off the rocks. They..."

"Shut up Abe," Stu said, "Deano chose to go to Tatani. He believed talking to Tatani was the way out. He got himself killed."

"Bastards," Abe said, "Tatani's gonna come for us too."

"Let him come for us," Stu said, "and I'll ram one of these spears into his heart."

Adrenalin filled Stu's limbs. The words had been liberating. For an instant Stu felt invincible. The others looked at him, wondering whether he would follow through. Stu took the safe ground, neither diluting his words nor expanding them.

"We should sleep now. Then we talk about what to do. I'll take first watch. Chris you're second."

They slept, and it was after midnight when Chris replaced Stu on watch. Chris remained for ten minutes, long enough for Stu to fall asleep, and then he left.

He had his spears. He intended to stick one in Tatani.

Chris moved down to the river and smeared mud over his face and body until only the whites of his eyes remained. Then he moved upstream.

The terrain was thick with trees and uneven underfoot. The dirt was warm, retaining the heat from the day. A breeze ruffled the surface of the stream, and moonlight reflected off it like shattered glass. It was dark, but Chris' sight was acute.

He came to a section where the dirt became rock and fell away sharply. He tossed his spears over the edge, and swung himself over the drop. On level ground again he hurried through the bush. His senses were alert. He heard and saw everything; the rustle of an animal in the branches overhead, and the blur of a rodent in the brambles to his right. On other nights he would have hunted these animals. But tonight he merely registered their movements and dismissed them. He had a different quarry tonight.

It was simple.

They could not run forever. They were tired and hungry. Abe was deteriorating. Moving was destroying them physically and mentally. And it would not save them. Eventually Tatani would track them down. And when Tatani attacked they would be too wasted to fight back. The time to fight was now. Chris knew they could not fight all of Tatani's men at once. But there were other ways. Isolated from each other, the men would be weak. Chris could use the darkness, and the element of surprise.

Chris smelt smoke and moved more slowly. He skirted up the slope away from the river. He was sweating underneath the mud, and his skin itched.

There. He froze. Ahead was a fire. Chris crept closer until he could see the men, and then he settled down in the thick scrub.

He counted ten men. They were laid out around the fire and appeared to be sleeping, using their packs as pillows. Tatani was propped up against a tree, his head lolled forward over his chest; sleeping. Empty cans and belongings were strewn about the camp; flashlights, boots, hats and jackets.

Get a rifle.

Chris scanned the campsite. Tatani had his rifle looped over his shoulder, and the other men kept their rifles close, tucked beneath the backpacks they used as pillows. Chris dismissed the scheme of getting a rifle. It did not matter, he could leave his message another way. Spear one of them. His eyes were drawn to the Pitbull.

The Pitbull was lying on his side facing the fire, the scar visible in the moonlight. Chris knew every contour of that face. He had studied it in his mind.

Put a spear in him. Skewer him.

Chris started down the slope, lifting his knees high to avoid making any noise in the dry undergrowth. The simple snapping of a twig or crunching of a branch, could give him away.

He reached the edge of the camp and stopped. Listening – watching. One of the men stirred and Chris spun, leading with his spear. But the man sighed, rolled over and lay still.

Chris stepped toward the fire. The dirt was warm. He was in the centre of the camp now; with them. He considered how long it would take for the men to get their guns after he speared the Pitbull.

Long enough. Stupid bastards.

He stood over the Pitbull. His bare feet were close to the Pitbull's face. The Pitbull had wrapped himself in a jacket that rose and fell as he breathed. Chris lowered the spear so that the tip hovered an inch above the Pitbull's neck. A bead of sweat trickled off Chris' forehead and down his nose.

_Skewer him_.

Chris was blinded by a simmering lust for revenge. He did not think about how the other men would react, or how he might escape. None of it mattered. The world around him; the men, the trees, the fire, became a blur.

Skewer him.

Something shifted in the periphery of Chris' vision. One of the men sat up and began fumbling with his sleeping bag zipper. Chris was on the ground in an instant, his face pressed to the dirt, an inch from the Pitbull's. He lay still, barely breathing as his muscles tensed ready to spring. But the man went into the trees and relieved himself.

Chris held his position, watching the Pitbull's breath stir the dirt in front of him. In time the man returned to his sleeping bag, and the camp was still again. The incident unnerved Chris. A spear might kill the Pitbull, but it would also wake the others. But he needed to leave a message; a message for the men, but also for Stu and the others. And then he saw the hunting knife next to the Pitbull's leg.

Chris took it and retreated into the trees.

"What a knife," James gasped.

Chris waved the knife in front of everyone. The early morning sunlight leapt off its blade.

"Amazing," James breathed as he ran his finger over the serrated edge, "you took the knife from them?"

"Yes. While they slept. I could have put my spear into any of them. I could have," he paused, raising the knife, "killed them with their own knife."

"It's a beauty," James said and reached for the knife, but Chris drew it away. "Where were their guns?" Stu asked.

"They were holding them while they slept," Chris said, "I should have stabbed them and then taken a gun."

Stu looked at Chris. His body was covered in mud. Stu tried to remember how Chris used to look, back home, but the image eluded him. It was as if the Chris he saw now was the Chris he had always known.

"You might have speared one of them," Stu said, "but the others would have shot you."

Chris shook his head.

"We shouldn't be scared of them. This," Chris held up the knife as if it were some idol to be worshipped, "is proof. If we can steal from them we can fight them. We can hide during the day. And stalk them at night."

Chris' words became animated.

"We can't keep running. Look at us. We're hungry and tired. They'll get us in the end when we're weak," Chris said.

Stu listened and Chris' words inspired a fleeting image of Tatani's head on a spear. But the vision vanished just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a glimpse of Lara tied up in a chair. He would not abandon her. And as much as he wanted to attack Tatani, their best chance to get out lay downstream. He got up and started along the river. The others followed him.

"We can fight Tatani," Chris yelled, "spear everyone of them."

The test was Karl's idea. If there was a mole in the group then he'd likely be communicating with the outside; keeping the opposition informed of Tatani's movements. Tatani sprung the test on the men when they woke.

"Alright. Which one of you bastards has been calling the outside?"

There was silence. Tatani had ordered the men to leave their phones at home. The trip had been about detaching themselves from the outside. Tatani had the only phone, in case of an emergency, and to keep in contact with Raven.

Simon, knowing Tatani would search all the packs anyway, got his mobile from his pack and tossed it nonchalantly at Tatani's feet.

"What is this? Pre-school."

Tatani regarded him carefully. He would treat Simon the same as the other men. Tatani said: "No, not pre-school. This is an inquisition."

Simon shrugged. "Bullshit."

Two other men went to their bags and retrieved their phones, handing them to Tatani.

"Anymore," Tatani said, "assessing the men."

None.

"Alright," Tatani said, leaning back against a tree, "you little texting junkies. Let's see who you've been calling."

Tatani unlocked one of the phones, frowning as he scrolled through the "Calls made" and "Calls received" numbers. There were two calls since they had been in the bush. Both to the same number. Tatani glanced at his man.

"Who?"

"My bookie," the man muttered.

"Who? Give me a name!"

"Marshall – Marshall Rochester."

"Alright, let's see if he has a hot tip for me."

Tatani dialed the number and a man answered, speaking fast: "Yeah – what – why you calling me now? There's no races anywhere in the bloody country."

Tatani hung up, and said: "Clean. Then he hurled the phone into the river.

Tatani toggled through the list of calls on the second mobile. None received or made.

"You need this for anything?" Tatani asked, studying the second man carefully.

The man shrugged and Tatani threw the phone into the river.

Tatani focused on Simon's phone. Once again there were no calls made or received.

"Join the party," Tatani said and hurled Simon's phone into the river.

While Tatani had been reviewing the mobiles Karl had been searching the other packs.

Tatani said: "Karl, what have you found?"

Karl was up to the last pack.

"Noth... no hang on." He found a phone concealed in the zippered base of Tedo's pack.

Tedo rushed forward and said: "It is nothing. I forgot I had it there. I did not mean to bring it."

Karl shoved him back and handed the phone to Tatani.

"Relax Tedo," Tatani said, "how can a phone hurt you? Now why did you bring this? Wanted to stay in touch with your personal trainer? Call mummy?"

The laughter of the group ceased when Tatani drew his knife and wandered up behind Tedo. He casually draped his arm over Tedo's shoulder, putting the phone in front of his face. There was a number on the screen.

"Three missed calls from this number. Someone's dying to get a hold of you. Who?" Tatani's voice was like ice.

Tedo was sweating, and breathing quickly.

"My – my woman," Tedo stammered.

Tatani laughed. "Your woman. Your bitch. Your ho. Now that's a hell of a story."

"It – it's true. Melanie. Her name's Melanie."

"You don't have her number programmed?"

"She's new."

Tatani did not buy it.

"Call her now."

Tedo dialed the number and tried to squirm out of Tatani's grip, but Tatani held him tight as he put the phone on speaker mode. The number rang several times before the call was diverted to an automated voicemail service.

Tatani snapped the phone shut, before spinning Tedo around and driving him backwards into a tree. The knife was at his throat.

"You bastard. Who's number is that?"

Tedo struggled to speak.

"Truth. Mel. My girl. She works in a call centre and can't answer all the time."

Tatani's eyes swelled, before he stifled his rage and turned to the other men, his manner suddenly jovial.

"Alright, it looks like even Tedo can pull a woman. We'll just hang on to this phone, so when little Mel gets uptight and calls Tedo for some action, we can screen the call."

He slipped the phone in his pocket, and addressed the men.

"This is not over. The mole cannot hide forever. He'll screw up eventually and when he does he is gone. Now get your shit together. Let's find the bastards we're hunting, kill 'em, and get out of here."

Stu found himself daring to hope.

Civilization. A farm. A road. Anything. This time he would see it.

He moved beyond the final line of trees atop a rise. Below him was a valley, thick with trees. A gorge cut through the next row of mountains, and he heard the heavy drum of rapids. Beyond the gorge the land opened into a wide plain. In the distance there was the black outline of another line of mountains, and another line beyond that, and another beyond that. He unfurled the map he held in his pocket. It was covered in mountains. It was impossible to tell how far along they were. It was useless. The map was a hoax, just as Chris had said.

All at once Stu realised the truth. There was no civilization. There was no way out. He had been blinkered and desperate, but now it was clear.

Exhaustion and pain hit him in a rush. He struggled to rein in his anger. They should have been dead days ago. But they had found water and Chris had got them food. They had defied the elements. Defied Abe's wound. Defied their exhaustion. He had gone out alone. He had tried everything he could to get out to save Lara.

Tatani's bearded face danced around Stu's mind, taunting him.

Tatani was the cause of all of this. He was the reason Deano was dead. He was the reason Abe was hurt. He was the reason they were running. He had Lara.

Stu saw a vision of Tatani lying on the ground with spears in him. Stu was bashing him, kicking him in the head and face. Battering his skull until it leaked like a cracked egg. And out of the red mess a vision of Lara emerged, her once beautiful face torn with fear.

"BASTARD!" he shouted.

The others appeared. They had come to see for themselves. Stu saw the misery in their features; the misery he had caused. He had forced them to hope.

"We can not keep running," Chris said, "we've run far enough."

Stu heard Chris and sensed that this moment, up on the hill looking over the endless sea of nothing, hurting, tired and exhausted, was playing out just as Chris had planned.

"We must do something," Chris continued, "before we are too weak we must turn and..."

"Fight," Stu said.

The word, coming from Stu, meant more than if it had come from Chris. Stu had finally surrendered to the instincts that had been gnawing at him for days. Those instincts had been encouraging a violent end to all this madness. The others watched him, waiting for what he might say next.

"Tatani caused this," Stu said, "he killed Deano. We don't run anymore. We fight Tatani and we kill him. And before he dies he tells us where Lara is, and he gets us out of here."

That night, Tatani was surprisingly upbeat, he believed he had just unravelled one of the riddles that had bothered him for days. He explained it to his men as they were preparing camp.

"The prey stops when they see our fire; thinking we won't come for them."

Several of the men nodded, uncertain of where Tatani was heading.

"So tonight we surprise them," Tatani said, "we start a fire, but then we hunt them in the dark."

Chapter 18

They left Abe propped up against a tree with two spears.

"Just in case," Chris explained.

It was after dark and the air had turned cold. They were in a clearing close to the river. Stu crouched beside Abe and said: "You OK?"

Abe nodded.

"If you hear something, anything, that doesn't introduce itself," Stu said, "get into cover. And if it doesn't go away – put a spear in it."

Chris led them down to the river.

"We paint ourselves. The mud will let us blend with the bush."

He left his knife and spears on the bank before he stepped into the river. He smeared mud over his chest and arms. Stu followed with James. The mud was warm and clung to them like a second skin. As Stu spread the mud, he tried to comprehend how things had come to this.

Kill or be killed.

That was the equation now. Tatani had killed Deano.

Kill or be killed.

Earlier, Stu had explained to them what they were to do. There was to be no fighting tonight. That might come later. Tonight they would watch Tatani's group and gather information. Stu believed that their spears were no match for guns. And information was a more powerful weapon. Armed with information they could conjure a plan.

They crouched low in the undergrowth. The men were twenty metres away down the slope, spaced around the fire, drinking and talking to one another. A man spat into the fire. Red sparks flared into the air.

Stu recognised several of the men. The Pitbull was sitting on the far side of the fire, his scar unmistakable. Sitting to the Pitbull's left was the tall thin man that had dropped them out of the helicopter.

Tatani sat opposite.

Stu suffered an urge to rush down and put his spear into Tatani, and demand that he tell him where Lara is. Stu had carried a hope that when he sighted the men tonight he would see Lara with them. He knew now that it had been an irrational hope. Why would the men bring her into the bush? Stu calmed himself. They could not get at Tatani. Not tonight. There were too many men, and too many guns.

Stu was aware that the men could not see him hidden in the scrub. The men would be blind from staring into the fire, and the bush around them would be a dark void. Chris was right. The men had planned this hunt. They were well equipped with warm clothing for the nights, and boots and thick pants to protect them from the bush. They had bottled water and food.

A snippet of the men's conversation carried up the slope.

"... bitch. Ran like a rabbit..."

"... blew him off the..."

The blood was hot in Stu's head. The men were talking about Deano; laughing about how they had shot him.

Then one of the men stood and started up the slope. Stu sunk low in the scrub as the man approached their position. Stu thought to run, but he knew that was the worst thing he could do, the man would not see them if they remained still in the dark. Stu readied his spear and watched the man through the spaces in the scrub. He was close enough now that Stu could see his features; a goatee, wide, dumb looking, eyes.

The man stopped three metres down the slope, fumbled with his zipper and began urinating. Stu noticed Chris edging forward with his knife. Stu grabbed his arm. Chris wrenched his arm free. But it was too late. The man had finished, and was moving down the slope.

Chris thrust the knife close to Stu's face. He did not speak, but Stu understood the warning. And before Stu could react, Chris was crawling away. Chris skirted across the slope until he came to a strip of trees that ran down to where the men were camped. He descended the slope in the cover of the trees. Chris stopped five metres behind the nearest man and sunk into the scrub. Completely still he was invisible in the dense foliage.

The blood pounded in Stu's brain. Chris was a liability. He was jeopardising them all. Stu wanted to get back to Abe. They had seen enough. They knew how the men were provisioned and armed. They knew the men were hunting them. They knew several of the faces in the group. They could retreat now and devise a plan. But Chris was about to screw it all up.

Then Stu caught on the men's conversation.

"Reckon Dinga and Tedo... et... back soon."

"Better... back or... missing out."

Instinctively Stu counted the men.

Eight. But Chris had said that there were ten men. Two men were missing. Stu gripped James' arm and pointed down at the camp. He showed James two fingers and mouthed the word "missing." James made a low whimpering sound.

Stu tried to remain calm and think. They had to get back to Abe. But it was impossible to get a message to Chris. Stu could not risk going down the slope to get him. A whisper, maybe the men would not hear him, but then how would Chris hear him. Throw a rock or a stick. No. Too dangerous.

Then Stu remembered a sound that Chris had made earlier when hunting for food; a sort of clicking with his lips, which had mimicked some nocturnal bird or rodent. At that moment the men burst out laughing and Stu seized the opportunity.

It had been several hours since the men had stopped and eaten. Aware of the imminent hunt, they spoke excitedly to each other. Tatani enjoyed their energy. There might be a mole in the group, but Tatani could not allow that to fracture them. The mole would be identified and eliminated, and then the group would be united again. Tonight was not about the mole. It was about the thrill of the hunt. They had prepared earlier, dressing in their darkest clothes, readying flashlights, fresh ammunition clips and knives. A circle of rifles stood against a tree. All that remained was Tatani's word to start it off.

A night-time hunt. A blood bath.

Tatani was confident that the prey had seen the fire, and stopped to sleep. In another half hour it would be over. He passed the time by dismantling and reassembling the various components of his rifle, listening to the Pitbull rant about how he had lost his knife.

"Last time I used it was two nights ago. Bastard thing has vanished. If any of you pricks have taken it, I swear I'll kill you."

The Pitbull upended the contents of his pack and sorted through the pile, growing increasingly frustrated.

"Reckon Dinga and Tedo are off boofing each other some place?" one of the men interrupted.

The conversation caught Tatani's attention. Earlier, Tatani had allowed Dinga and Tedo to leave the camp under strict instructions of no shooting, no lights or anything that might startle their prey. But if the two of them were not back on time, Tatani intended to add them to the list of targets.

The two men, Tedo and Dinga, were a kilometre from Tatani's camp. The bush was silent; just the rush of the river and the rumble of rapids further downstream. They were moving carefully to mask their sounds, searching for the men they were hunting.

The idea to "go and see" had been more Tedo's than Dinga's. Tedo was tired of the hunt. He wanted it to end. This way, if they located the prey, then they could lead Tatani and the others straight to them, and the hunt would be over quickly.

They did not risk using their torches, and navigated by the moonlight. They had not seen any sign of their targets.

"I give up. Bastards are well hidden if they are around," Dinga cursed.

"They are around," Tedo replied, "sleeping some place."

Dinga caught his foot in some tree roots and kicked himself free. "Bloody scrub."

They were approaching a clearing in the bush where the moonlight illuminated the earth in stark clarity. Tedo stepped into the space, and stopped and checked his watch.

Quarter to ten. He remembered Tatani's deadline.

"Shit we got to get back."

"Wait," Dinga protested, "I got to take a dump."

Dinga handed his rifle to Tedo.

"Hold on to your shit, we got to get back," Tedo said.

But Dinga ignored him. He moved up the slope then stopped.

They both heard the sound.

A disturbance. Not a rustling sound like a rodent makes, instead, the sound of something heavy, pressing down in the scrub several metres up the slope. Dinga studied the scrub. The foliage was thick and impossible to see into.

"What is it?" Tedo asked.

Dinga ignored him and stepped closer to the scrub.

"Forget it," Tedo urged, "come on we got to get back to the others."

Dinga stooped and tried to see what was in the scrub.

There it was again; the sound of something shifting in the undergrowth.

He stepped closer. Tedo clicked the safety off his rifle. Dinga crept up the slope until he was two feet from the scrub. Still the branches were too thick to see behind. He tilted his head from side to side, trying to change the angle of his view, seeking to draw a shape out of the tangle of branches. He thought he saw something. Not much, just a shape, a black mass where there should have been a clear space. He was about to call out to Tedo when the scrub exploded.

The black shape he had seen rose out of the branches. It was bigger than he had imagined. Far bigger. It came up and out. And in the instant before the shape struck him Dinga realised it was human.

Chris had heard Stu's night-call and retreated from his position, and they had started back through the bush. Once they were a safe distance from the men, they tracked down to the river. They kept to the shadows, wary of the missing men. The mud they had smeared on their bodies had cracked and fallen away so that their cover was no longer complete. But there was no time to refresh the camouflage as they hurried to get back to Abe.

Stu noticed a tight bend in the river that he remembered from their outward journey. It was not far now. Stu hoped that if Abe had heard the men, he had the sense to hide.

The figure leapt onto Dinga. He tried to fight against the figure, punching, kicking, but the figure held him down. Dinga saw a flash of something long and straight. A pointed tree branch was coming down fast toward him.

The spear's tip snapped two of Dinga's ribs as it punctured his chest. His hands reached instinctively for the spear attempting to rip it out. But it was impossible to dislodge.

Dinga heard a gunshot and his attacker got off him. He saw the shadow leap down the slope. Then he saw the blood on his hands and on his shirt.

Life was leaking out of him.

He heard screaming. Another gunshot. It all sounded very distant.

Stu heard the gunshot and dove into the scrub. Branches got in his eyes and mouth. James and Chris were on the ground in front of him. They did not appear hurt. Stu strained to listen, but there was only the rumble of the rapids.

Stu shimmied up until he was level with the others.

"We have to get back to Abe," he said.

Stu knew the danger but Abe was injured and on his own. Stu started forward in a low crouch. Stu knew that he should be quiet but he did not care.

_Crack_.

The gunshot came from the area ahead. Thinking only of Abe, Stu charged through the trees. He bashed the branches out of his path. His breath came in ragged gasps.

As he ran Stu became aware of something moving through the bush higher up the slope. The sounds were clear; branches snapping and grass being trampled. Stu tried to see, but saw only blurred tree trunks as he ran. And just as suddenly as the sounds had come they were gone.

Stu reached the clearing where they had left Abe. The others joined him.

"He's gone."

"They shot him and took him."

The ground around the tree where they had left Abe was disturbed. Chris stepped behind the tree and found one of Abe's spears. Then Stu saw a blood stained hand protruding from the tangle of scrub up the slope.

Tedo charged through the scrub. The branches had cut his forehead and blood dripped into his eyes. He had two rifles, Dinga's and his own. He heard noises in the bush behind him and down the slope. The bastard was coming for him. The big son of a bitch. The bastard that had attacked Dinga.

Tedo had got two shots off. One when Dinga was being attacked, and the other when the attacker had turned on him. But both rounds had flown high. And Tedo had run when the bastard threw a spear at him. There had been no use fighting the kid. He was huge, and had many more spears.

Tedo saw the orange glow of Tatani's campfire ahead, but a sudden thought occurred to him.

What would Tatani and the others think? He had two guns against a man with sticks? And he had left Dinga. But they had not seen the savage bastard. And shooting the man had been impossible in the darkness.

Tedo plundered into the clearing. The others were standing with their rifles. Tatani grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him.

"What the hell is going on?"

Stu was unsteady with nausea as he edged forward. The bloodied hand joined an arm, and then he saw the hem of a shirt. Relief washed over him.

It was a man. He was on his back. A spear stood out of his chest. Blood had stained the earth dark brown around the body. Blood had leaked out the man's mouth, and his eyes were open wide as if unable to believe what had happened to him. Stu judged by the length of spear that was visible, that the point had penetrated the earth, pinning the man to the ground. The man held the spear as if he had been attempting to pull it out before he died.

Earlier, the thought of putting a spear into someone had seemed easy. But the reality was not as tidy. The man had bled tremendously. More than the boar, more than all of the animals Chris had killed put together.

Chris placed two fingers against the man's neck and shook his head. Moving with clinical precision Chris checked the man's pockets and tossed a packet of cigarettes to Stu.

"The magnesium in them is flammable," Chris said.

"Where's his gun?"

"... no choice..."

Stu whirled around and saw Abe propped up against a tree beyond the clearing. His face was streaked with dirt. His hands were covered in blood and he kept rubbing them trying to get them clean.

"You alright Abe?"

"Killed him," Abe muttered.

"We know," Stu said, "are you alright?"

"Killed him. He's dead. Blood," Abe continued, "everywhere."

Abe beat his hands together, frustrated by his inability to get the blood off them.

Stu held Abe's hands still.

"Are you hurt?"

"I heard him. Crunching in the scrub. I hid like you said. But he found me and I got him down and – and, and got my spear in..."

Abe broke off, wringing his bloodied hands together.

"Where's his gun?" Chris asked.

"The other one took it," Abe said.

Suddenly it made sense to Stu. The sounds he had heard when they were rushing back to Abe had been the sounds of the second man, running back to Tatani.

"We got to move," Stu said, "the other one's gone to get Tatani."

Stu hoisted Abe up and supported him down to the river. The river was twenty metres wide. The current was swift, the surface cut into lines. Earlier in the evening Stu and Chris had seen the rapids several hundred metres downstream. The water had foamed over a series of submerged rocks before plummeting over a sheer drop. They would die if they were swept over the falls, but they had to cross the stream. Their side of the river was open and exposed. The opposite bank was thick with trees.

"Come on."

Stu dragged Abe into the water.

"Move your fat arse Tedo."

Tatani shoved Tedo through the scrub ahead of him. Tedo was leading the men back to where it had happened. The men had their rifles drawn. Tedo's news had stunned them. They were already talking of retribution.

Dinga. Dead?

Tatani could not accept it. Tedo had told them that one of the prey had killed Dinga with a spear. The image was impossible to conjure. The man Tatani had shot the other day had been thin and useless; dead on his feet. A man like that could not kill Dinga.

But if it were true, there would be no mercy.

The water was deeper than it had looked from the shore. Five metres out it was up to their waists. The current bore against them, and they struggled to keep their footing. The rocky riverbed was slippery. And all the time the current threatened to drag them downstream into the rapids.

Stu watched Chris moving ahead, carrying his knife in its sheath between his teeth, both arms out for balance. James followed, and then Stu supporting Abe. Stu had positioned Abe on the upstream side of him, so that he could brace both of them against the current. But the weight of Abe and the rushing water was tremendous. The sound of the rapids was a constant thumping like a mechanical piston. Looking downstream Stu saw the water rear up against the bank as the stream made a wide sweeping turn before pouring toward the unseen rapids.

Stu looked behind. The bank they had left was dark and deserted. No lights. No men. But Tatani would be coming.

"We got to move quicker," Stu grunted in Abe's ear, "help me."

"Where?" Tatani demanded.

They were in the clearing and Tedo directed his torch up the slope and illuminated Dinga's body. It was exactly as Tedo had described. A spear stood out of Dinga's chest. The others joined Tatani and gazed in horror, not wanting to look, but mesmerised by the gore.

"He is dead," Karl said, having checked for Dinga's pulse.

Everything around Tatani seemed distant and unreal. This was not supposed to have happened. None of his men were supposed to die. They were the hunters, not the prey.

"Those sons of bitches did this," Simon raged.

Simon's words momentarily cleared Tatani's head. Anger overcame shock. He turned from Dinga's body and scanned the trees around them. He listened. The bush was silent; just the sound of the rapids. The prey would have run and got themselves into cover. For an instant, Tatani wished that it was Tedo lying with a spear in him, and not Dinga. Tedo was a coward. A mole? He was...

No. Tatani stopped his thoughts. Focus on the prey.

"Karl. Which way did they go?"

Karl appraised the ground and the bush, and said: "I can not tell."

"Dinga is dead," Tatani shouted, "he has a spear in him. And you cannot tell me where these bastards went?"

Simon, realising his father was being distracted by emotion, and time was being wasted, stepped in. He glared at the other men, and said: "Everyone listen to me. One of those bastards speared Dinga. I want those pricks. They are using spears, but spears are only good up close. We search together. If we keep our formation we will find them. We want those savages alive."

Savages – Tatani thought – that is what they were hunting now. Desperate human being running around with makeshift spears. Savages.

"Those savages will pay..."

The sound of splashing in the river distracted Simon. He played his flashlight over the water. Through the spaces in the trees he saw four figures moving through the shallows on the opposite bank of the river.

"You dirty sons of bitches."

The men ran down the slope and started shooting.

Retribution had commenced.

Chapter 19

Tatani could not hear anything but the constant blam – blam – blam of the rifles.

The men were filled with a blind lust for blood. Strung out along the bank they fired at the four figures on the opposite bank. Rifles bucked, spent casings flew, and chambers were refilled, with a constant clack – clack – clack. But the targets were gone. They had exited the river and vanished behind a wall of dirt close to the water's edge. The men kept firing, pummeling the wall of dirt. Only Tatani, Karl and Simon stood back and held their fire.

"Stop firing!" Tatani shouted.

Impatient sons of bitches. This is not the way that it should end.

After what had been done to Dinga, Tatani wanted to punish the prey slowly.

Stu lay in a narrow ditch. He kept his head down as he heard the bullets pummeling the dirt wall that protected him.

Earlier, Stu had exited the river with Abe, and had been heading for the trees further up the bank, bullets flying around him, when a hand had pulled him down. He fell into the depression where the others were sheltering. They were laying in a channel carved by rain water rushing down the hill to meet the river. A half metre wall of dirt shielded them from the men on the other side of the river.

"Stay down," Chris yelled.

"Stop firing! Sons of bitches, hold your fire! Next idiot who fires I kick his arse. I kill him. Stop firing!"

Tatani's words were nothing against the barrage of gunfire. Livid, he moved along the line of men, shouting, and forcing them to lower their rifles. Finally there was silence.

The men were a pack of baying dogs. They studied the opposite bank searching for any movement, a signal to start shooting again.

Tatani could hear only a shrill ringing. The gunfire had ruined his hearing.

Shit. How do we track the kids in the dark unable to hear?

"Get the hell over there and find them," Tatani shouted, "and I want them alive."

Water dripped into Stu's eyes as he pressed himself flat to the ground.

Chris was beside Stu. James and Abe were facing them. All four of their heads together. James was moaning and covering his ears with his hands. Chris glared upward like a lizard, studying the top of the ditch. The depression was about four feet wide. Bullets pounded the dirt rise.

"Oh shit," James whined.

Stu ignored him and tried to think. They were safe for the moment. But Tatani would cross the river. Only Chris was armed, with his knife, the others had lost their spears in the water. They could not fight the men. They had to find a place to hide.

Suddenly Chris rose and crawled out of the ditch. The angle of the land was such that he was still hidden from the opposite bank by the dirt rise. Stu watched him crawl into the thick undergrowth.

"Come on," Stu said as he helped Abe up.

They left the ditch and started up the slope, crawling through the dense foliage.

Once they were higher up the slope and concealed in the bush, Stu stopped to observe what was happening below.

As he watched, the first of Tatani's men exited the stream and ran to the ditch, rifle ready. The man played his flashlight up and down the ditch. The rest of the men joined him. Words were exchanged and flashlights swept over the mountainside.

Stu said: "We have to climb higher and find a better place to hide."

They ducked as a flashlight passed over their position. Down below, the men had spread out and started climbing.

Chris moved up and across the mountain. Stu followed him, recognising Chris' plan to get beyond the area that the men were searching.

For an instant he thought he had been discovered as a light fell on him. He froze, standing still, blending with the trees. The light lingered for a moment before it swept away. He ran on.

Tatani picked his way slowly up the mountain. His men were strung out either side of him scanning the bush with their torches. But their flashlights were useless. They only illuminated what lay within the three-metre width of their beam. And Tatani's ears were still ringing from the earlier gunfire.

Can't see – can't hear – how can we search like this?

But he could not let the prey escape. Dinga was dead. He had been speared through the heart. Simon had been right when he described the prey as savages. That is what they were. A pack of half dressed spear wielding savages. And Dinga had to be avenged. The men would expect it. But the men needed more light than their flashlights provided.

Tatani stopped and whistled. The men stopped, holding their line. Tatani reached inside his daypack and drew a flare gun. He had sourced the gun from a friend with military connections, and brought it on the hunt hoping for some fun. He raised the pistol over his head and fired.

There was a dull puff as a cylindrical canister flew high, forty – fifty – sixty – metres into the air before it exploded in blinding light.

Stu heard the crack like a gunshot, but not as loud. More a puff – an explosion of compressed air, then an odd fizzing sound.

An instant later the bush exploded into light. Night became day. Stu could see everything.

He made the mistake of looking up to see the source of the light, and it blinded him. Looking around, he could make out the blurred outline of the trees, but everything he saw was distorted by a bright white halo.

Bullets ripped through the bush close to Stu as he ran blindly through the bush. He crashed into a tree, fell, got back up, tripped and righted himself again. Fear propelled him. He saw the shapes of the others moving higher up the mountain, and rushed after them.

In time Stu's sight began to return. He knew the men had put up some kind of flare. He judged that the sphere of light spread for maybe fifty square metres. But the light was temporary, it was probably suspended by a parachute. It would burn itself out or drift away. But how long would that take? They couldn't hold out much longer.

But how do we find cover in daylight?

A bullet thudded into a tree centimetres from Stu's head. He lurched to his right and kept running. He checked behind. The men were thirty metres below.

Abe and James were five metres above him, and Chris was at the top of the slope, dwarfed by a towering rock cliff. It was then that Stu realised that they were running without a plan. Earlier, before the flare went up, they had been seeking to get beyond Tatani's search area. But the flare had thrown things into chaos.

Stu joined Chris and the others. The cliff loomed high, its summit beyond the light of the flare. A bullet pinged off the rocks in front of Stu, fragments flying. The men were shooting sporadically, unable to get a clear shot in the thick bush.

"We can't hide here," Chris shouted, "we got to go for the river."

Stu looked down the mountain. He saw the men struggling through the dense scrub. The flare was low enough now that most of its light was lost in the upper branches of the trees. Chris ran and Stu followed him. Stu's bare feet skidded on the loose rocks and debris. Plotting down the slope brought them closer to the men. But the men failed to adjust their course, and continued up the slope so that their paths crossed fifteen metres from each other.

Stu heard the roar of the rapids, and it filled him with dread. The river might save them from Tatani but the rapids would surely kill them.

A bullet ripped through the leaves overhead. The gunshot was followed by another and then another, until the bush was once again alive with gunfire. The men were rushing down the slope now. The flare had burnt out, and they were using their torches.

Arriving at the river bank Stu saw the water, two metres below, black and foreboding in the darkness. The ground reverberated from the pounding of the rapids around the next bend.

Getting in the water was suicide. But so was surrendering to Tatani. If they survived the rapids the current would take them swiftly downstream.

"We jump," Stu said.

"No," James countered.

"Get in James," Stu yelled.

A bullet cut through the leaves. Urgent voices rose out of the bush. Suddenly James ran, dashing away from the river and vanishing in the trees.

Abe made to pursue James, but Stu grabbed him, and jumped, dragging the big man into the river.

Leroy's phone buzzed. He was parked in a deserted street overlooking the Brisbane river. He glanced at the phone screen and saw that it was an unknown number. It was the call he had been dreading.

"Yes."

"Leroy. I have not heard from you for some time. How are things with the girl?"

Leroy detected an edge in Volker's voice. He paused before responding. His search for the girl had not gone well. He had followed several leads; information he had heard around the city, and information he had extorted from people. But the leads had led to dead ends. Tatani's crew were tight-lipped, and Leroy was struggling to conjure his next move.

"It is progressing slowly Mr Volker."

There was a pause and when Volker spoke next his tone was sharp.

"That is unsatisfactory Leroy. I want her eliminated quickly. Do you understand?"

They might have been many kilometres apart at that moment but a sweat sprung up on the back of Leroy's neck.

"Yes Mr Volker," he replied.

The line was broken and Leroy stared at his phone for a long time. Then he had an idea. Maurice, Tatani's deal doer, might have some information worth sharing.

The first sensation was deafness, a cold pressure on his ears, then Stu broke the surface, and chaos and panic set in.

The river was a splashing, foaming force. Stu flailed with his arms, fighting to remain upright as he was flung around like a rag doll. Gasping he was sucked under. The current turned him over and over until he lost his bearings; no longer aware of which way was up and which was down. The current shoved him against a submerged wall of rock, and held him there.

Stu felt rock above his head, and either side of him. With a rush of terror he determined that he had been shoved into a submerged crevice. He fought for a time, swiping with his arms, and kicking with his legs, but the strength of the current was too great. He sensed his air expiring, and he panicked more and the air escaped him quicker. But just as he began to black out he was spat up to the surface like a cork. Spluttering he struggled to get his bearings. Any moment he expected to plummet over the first of the rapids. Then he saw a glimmer of hope.

The current had thrust him within metres of the bank. The bank was no longer sheer; erosion from the fast moving water had created an overhang. The underside of the overhang was laced with crags and hollows; places for hands to grip. Stu struck out madly for the bank. The river completed its turn and the current started to suck him back toward the centre of the stream. He swam with all the energy he had, coughing and spewing water, until finally his hands struck stone. His fingers dragged along the wall and found a crack and held.

The pressure on Stu's arms was agony. His muscles started to spasm with fatigue.

Stu looked up. The ceiling of the overhang was half a metre above him. Looping tree roots dangled from it like rope. Stu clasped a root with one hand. Comfortable it would hold he grabbed the root with both hands. The current forced his body high in the water, and the pressure on his arms diminished.

He considered the others. Had they gone over the rapids already?

Then Stu saw them. Two shapes, one slightly ahead of the other, upstream of him but moving fast. They vanished from view behind a wave, and then bobbed back to the surface. They seemed insignificant in the swirling mass of water.

Suddenly both started swimming for the bank. The first swimmer got under the overhang and clutched a looping tree root. In the dim light, Stu saw that it was Chris.

The second body was tumbling crazily out of control, like a huge tree log. Abe. The current kept rolling him over and over. As his body drifted under the overhang he clutched a tree root, but the weight of his body broke it. He fell back into the water. Stu saw Chris throw out a hand to grab him but missed, and Stu realised that Abe was coming straight for him. A wash of water got in Stu's eyes, blinding him. He felt the bump of something heavy against him. When his vision returned, Stu turned and saw Abe hanging half out of the water, his hands locked around a tree root five metres behind him.

Suddenly the tree roots Stu was holding vibrated, and dirt fell from the ceiling of the overhang. Someone was moving on the bank above.

"The others jumped. I saw them."

"You sure?" Tatani asked, "you saw them in the water?"

"Yes."

Tatani was standing at the riverbank immediately before the rapids. The rest of the men were with him. The Pitbull had James, and a knife he had borrowed from one of the other men, pressed to James' throat.

Tatani clicked his fingers and the Pitbull dragged James to him.

"You ran," Tatani said, "can't you swim?"

James studied Tatani's face.

"Please."

Tatani said: "Rapids got your friends. But at least they gave themselves a chance."

Tatani took the safety off his rifle and chambered a round. James started moaning like an injured animal.

"Na – no – ple – no. Ple – I – I – no."

He covered his head with his hands, struggling to stand with his injured leg.

"Was it you who killed my man?"

"No. No. Please. No," James' voice was muffled under his arms.

"Look at me," Tatani ordered.

James parted his arms and Tatani shot him just above the right eye. The shot spun James around so that he fell on his stomach, his body draped over the river bank. Blood gushed from the hole in his head into the foaming water below.

"Two down," Tatani announced, resetting the safety on his rifle.

"Could the others have made it?" the Pitbull asked.

"Unlikely. Not with those rapids," Tatani answered, "but I want three more bodies."

Simon kicked James' corpse over the edge.

"We'll see where that one shows up. Give us an idea of where the current carried the others."

A gunshot and then James' face, with a wide hole in it, appeared half a metre in front of Stu. James' dead eyes were wide open as if he were stunned to see Stu hiding under the overhang.

Stu heard the men up above.

If one of them looks over the edge, let go and risk the rapids.

Suddenly James' body tumbled into the water, and was sucked away by the current. Then there was silence above.

After a period, Stu watched as Chris used the tree roots to haul himself out of the river and up on to the bank. Stu and Abe followed Chris' lead. They lay on the bank unable to move, shivering in the cold. The vision of James' leaking head was etched in Stu's mind. Stu struggled to comprehend how all of this had happened. First Deano and now James. Both dead. For what? Why? It was impossible to understand.

"He should have got in the river," Abe said, "if he had got in the river, then..." Abe broke off shaking his head.

"We can't stay here," Chris said, "they may come back. I saw a place."

Leroy climbed the stairs to Maurice's apartment on the third floor. Despite Volker's orders to complete the mission alone, Leroy had one of his helpers with him; the city was too big and there were too many leads to follow. Maurice lived in a dilapidated apartment block; paint peeling off the walls and the carpet ripped up and missing in places. The lights in the corridor were blown, and Leroy navigated by the moonlight that entered through the foyer window. They stopped outside Maurice's door, pulled their guns and knocked. No answer. The man knocked again and waited. Leroy saw the vein in his accomplice's neck twitch.

"Easy" Leroy muttered, "keep it civilized."

But in the next instant the man had shot the lock out and kicked the door in. There was a groan, and the sound of someone stumbling inside. Leroy flicked on the lights.

Maurice was on his knees holding his nose, blood pulsing through his fingers. A gun lay on the floor in front of him. He had been standing behind the door frame, ready to shoot them if they came in. But the door had smashed him in the face.

Leroy kicked Maurice's gun away and grabbed him by the hair, and pinned him against the wall. Maurice struggled to breathe with all the blood.

"Mi nose. Mi nose."

"Unfortunate, but no great loss. It was too big for your face," Leroy said, "now you stupid bastard. You are going to tell us some things about a girl."

Raven spat out the window of his car. Parked several houses down from Maurice's apartment block, he had just seen Leroy, Volker's spokesman, and one other man, get out of a car and enter the apartment building. Several minutes later the men returned and drove away.

The light went off in Maurice's apartment. Confused, but sensing that there would be no more excitement for the night, Raven drove away.

Chris led them back up the mountain to the base of the cliff. Stu grew apprehensive. There was nothing here. If Chris meant for them to hide in the trees he was out of his mind.

Then Chris stepped into a thin space between a slab of rock and the cliff face. The space was half a metre in width, and they were forced to turn side-on to squeeze through. Stu stepped down a metre high drop and followed Chris along the natural corridor.

"It gets better," Chris called, "you won't believe it. It's perfect."

Chris stopped at the end of the passage and pointed up a slope to a cave. The cave opening was several metres wide and high. Stu hurried up to it. Moonlight penetrated the first few metres inside, but beyond that was complete darkness. Their voices echoed, creating a sense of vastness. Stu was in awe.

"You found this?"

"By accident. When we were running from Tatani."

"Why didn't you show us the passage then?"

"It wouldn't have worked then," Chris said, "they were too close. They'd have kept searching until they found it. If they come back now they won't be focusing on this area."

Abe was already asleep inside the cave.

"We can stay here," Chris said, "tonight, and as long as we want."

Stu started to conjure the possibilities. The cave would shield them from the elements. And if the passage was as obscure in the daylight as it was in the dark, it was the perfect cover.

"This is brilliant," Stu said.

"Stay here," Chris said, "I got to check something."

"I'm coming with you," Stu said. If Chris had more mysteries, Stu wanted to see them.

Stu followed Chris, and they climbed up the cliff above the cave until they reached a rock shelf. Standing high on the mountain they had an unrestricted view of the land below. The trees were a mat of black. The river shone in the moonlight. Further east was a vast plain that met the dark outline of the next mountains.

Stu saw lights. Flickering like fireflies, strung out along both sides of the river.

"They're searching for our bodies," Chris said, "they've got no idea where we are."

They started down. Halfway down Stu stopped and looked up at the platform where they had been standing.

"Lion's head," he said.

"What?"

Stu pointed at the platform.

"Looks like a lion's head."

The protruding rock formed an image of a flared mane and lion's mouth.

"Yeah," Chris said, "I see it."

They located the body of the one Tatani had shot, several hundred metres beyond the rapids. But the other bodies were not there. The men split up and worked down both banks, probing the mud for tracks, searching for any sign of disturbance. They investigated the shallows and checked carefully any obstructions such as rocks and driftwood that might have trapped a body. But the search was fruitless. The failure intensified Tatani's anger.

He had seen the rapids. They were enormous. Powerful. No one could have survived them. The thought of calling off the search pained Tatani, but the men were tired and prone to overlooking something. Reluctantly he raised his walkie-talkie.

"Enough. Come to my light."

Tatani moved into a clearing and flashed his light several times.

The men spoke little as they made a fire and ate. Sleep did not come easily. The thrill of the chase had been replaced by the knowledge that Dinga was dead. It was not supposed to have happened. The kids were meant to be easy prey. But they had fought back and Dinga's death had exposed their own vulnerability. It could just have easily been one of them with a spear in them.

"Dinga is dead," George said, as if wanting someone to say it wasn't true.

"Shut up George," Simon said.

Chapter 20

Stu woke with a start. A vision of James' bloodied face shook him back to consciousness. Hunger beat at his belly. It was always there; inescapable. He looked around and was overwhelmed by the size of the cave.

The events of last night returned to him, seeming distant and unreal. The chase. James getting shot. Finding the cave. Seeing Tatani's lights in the distance.

Tatani.

"Relax. They're miles away."

Chris was sitting at the entrance to the cave obscured by shadows.

"You saw him," Stu asked, "from the lion's head?"

Chris nodded. "They're past the rapids and moving east."

Stu's instincts told him to get moving. Lara needed them to get out.

Chris read his thoughts. "I know you want to save her but with Abe like he is, and Tatani blocking that direction, we're stuck here."

"Maybe," Stu said, and stepped outside appraising the cave in the daylight. It was far bigger than it had appeared last night. The sunlight penetrated several metres back exposing the ribbed sandstone walls and ceiling. The sandy floor sloped up before reaching a peak, and sloping down and out of sight. A vast unexplained blackness lay at the back of the cave. The land sloped down from the front of the cave to a huge slab of rock that obscured the mountain and river below. To the right Stu saw the thin passage between the rock and the cliff through which they had entered last night.

"Bastards shot James," Stu said.

Chris motioned for Stu to sit with him, and handed him a rock and a branch. Stu took the branch and started filing the tip.

"They'll realise we're not dead," Chris said, "and they'll come back. But when they do..."

"We'll be ready for them," Stu said, "we'll defend this place."

The thought of defending the cave awakened something in Stu. Now that they were inside the cave they owned it. And after what had been done to Deano and James, if Tatani came for them, Tatani would die.

It was Stu who found the back exit to the cave. Chris had gone down to the river for a drink, and when he returned, Abe was sitting alone.

"Back here," Stu called out.

Chris moved up the slope until the ceiling became so low that he was forced to crawl in total darkness.

"What are you doing?" Chris called.

"It's the most brilliant thing," Stu said, "can't you feel the air moving. There's another exit. Come on."

They crawled through total darkness, the walls closing in around them. Then the tunnel brightened, and they emerged in the open once again.

Stu cast his arm out over a valley. "Amazing. And we just got ourselves a second exit from the cave."

Ten minutes later Stu stood before Chris and Abe at the main entrance to the cave. They needed to talk and work things out. Abe sat half asleep, maybe listening, maybe not.

"This is ours now. We can't keep running. James and Deano are gone. Tatani is picking us off one at a time. And Abe can't move anymore so we got to stay put and protect him. We can get water from the river. But if they come back we have to be ready."

"They will come back," Chris said, "we killed one of them."

Visions of the last two days returned, but the recollections did not disturb Stu. The time in the bush had desensitised him. Shooting, killing, blood, death; these things were no longer shocking. Instead the events were a catalyst for revenge. They inspired a desire to spill more blood; to take out Tatani's men, and even the score.

"There's only one way into this place that they could possibly discover," Stu said, "the second exit means we can defend the main entry without sealing ourselves inside. We can lay traps and fortify the place. We can watch them from the Lion's Head. So we're ready if they decide to come back."

Stu become increasingly animated. The situation thrilled him.

"We'll hunt them," he continued, "and make them wish they never came out here. They're weak. The proof's lying down there with a spear in him. Abe was injured, and there were two of them with guns, but Abe put a spear in him."

Stu had decided that their way out no longer lay downstream in the deep unknown, instead it was right here with Tatani. Tatani and his men would have entered the bush with a guaranteed way out. Either a map to show them the way, or the chopper that dropped them would return. Stu knew that Tatani was their enemy, but he was also the solution. And if they took out enough of his men, Tatani would surrender and tell him where to find Lara.

"We will get out, but right now we got to defend this place," Stu said, "and when that is done we are going to hunt them. Tatani is going to suffer."

Midday. The air was hot and dry. Dust caught in Tatani's throat and he coughed. He was standing at the river. Before him the water had turned dark green as clouds drifted over the sun. For a moment Tatani's tired eyes were taken by an illusion. In the shallows he saw the image of one of the savages. The figure was beaten and bleeding. He had no eyes, just black holes. Tatani's pulse quickened and his hands balled into fists. Then he blinked and the image was lost.

And that was just it. There were no savages; anywhere.

The men had been searching since first light. Tatani had been eager then, confident the daylight would reveal everything that the night had concealed. The men had split into two groups and scoured both banks keeping close to the water. But the men had not found any other bodies or any sign that the prey had left the river.

It was hot and exhausting. Tatani's enthusiasm for the hunt was being tested. And to compound his woes Raven had called earlier in the day. He had not identified the mole yet. But it seemed that Maurice's behaviour was becoming more incriminating. Raven had seen him meeting Leroy, Volker's spokesman. First Kandy and now Volker's man. It had taken every stretch of Tatani's will not to call Maurice and confront him, but Raven had recommended restraint. Raven would deal with Maurice. But still there was no guarantee that Maurice was the rat, it could still be one of the men out here with him.

The pressure of not knowing drained Tatani.

Stu raised the knife above his head and thrust it into the earth. The dirt fell apart around the blade and he swept it behind him. Then he struck at the ground again. His neck and back ached. His shoulders burned with fatigue. His fingers and palms were raw with blisters. Hungry, Stu struggled to focus on the ground as he plied it apart with the knife.

They had been digging the trench since mid morning. The passage was only wide enough for one of them to work at a time, so they took turns. Fifty blows from the knife and then they swapped.

Their aim was to dig the hole below the stone drop and line the base with wooden spikes. The trench would be as wide as the passage and about three metres in length. Concealed with vegetation it would be impossible to avoid by anyone stepping off the rock.

Stu examined his blisters. They were bright red and the skin was torn around them. His stomach groaned with intense hunger. Food would be a challenge. They needed food for energy. But how could they hunt with Tatani out there. Stu was confident that Chris would find a way.

And water. They had water at the river but it was exhausting having to descend the mountain. They were thirsty before they climbed back up.

Stu returned to the cave and dropped the knife on the ground. Chris put down the spear he was working on and picked up the knife and went to the pit.

Stu crawled over to Abe. He was propped up against the wall with his eyes closed. The chiseled wooden bowl they had made to store water for him was empty.

"You with us big man?" Stu asked.

Abe grunted.

Stu said: "I'll check on Tatani and then get you some water."

They finished the pit just before dark. The wooden spikes that Chris had been working on protruded from the base of the pit, their ends embedded deep in the ground so they would not buckle when stepped on. The points stood white and menacing in the gloom. Stu tried to imagine the trajectory of someone stepping into them. Unaware of the danger the person would leap down landing with both feet. The spikes would rip through his boots, impaling him.

"Cover it," Chris said, "use sticks as a base and then layer it with leaves and dirt. Then use branches to disguise the front entry to the passage. Make it look natural."

While Stu disguised the pit Chris climbed up to the Lion's Head. He saw the tiny black figures of Tatani's men searching in the distance. He climbed higher. He had been up there earlier and discovered that the cliff was dominated by a series of ancient fault lines. The largest of the fault lines was close to a metre in width, and set on an angle in toward the mountain. Chris lay flat on the fault line and looked out from the mountain. He saw only sky. He couldn't see down so no one could see up. He crawled further along the fault.

Five metres on he came to a collection of large rocks that had fallen from above. The nearest of the rocks was balanced precariously, a third of its mass resting beyond the edge of the ledge.

Chris glanced over the edge. The rock was positioned almost directly over the spike pit. If he could make the rock fall it might be useful. He leant on the slab and it rocked on its axis. He decided to return tomorrow to create a lever mechanism, with a rock and branch, so that he could dislodge the boulder while lying down hidden from below.

Chris descended the mountain. It would be dark soon. And then he would hunt.

Evening at the camp. Having packed enough food for two weeks, most of the men had run out of food. The charred remains of a kangaroo lay in the fire coals. Dirt and chunks of charcoal had grated on their teeth when they ate the animal. The men had tried not to think about the worms that might have been living in the roo meat.

The men were uneasy. They had searched all day, but had failed to find the remaining three bodies. The prey was alive and armed with spears.

And what kind of a person could put a spear into a man?

To do that required a special resolve; an intense desperation. It played on their minds. Animals scampering in the scrub startled them. Sometimes they saw shapes in the shadows between the trees. Their fears fed off the unknown.

In a way, if Dinga had been buried, they might have been able to block out his death. It was George, with his simpleton mind, who raised the issue.

"We should bury Dinga."

Tatani ignored the comment, and continued to tinker with the pieces of his rifle.

"Tatani," George persisted, "Dinga's dead, we got to put him in the ground."

"Shut up and sleep you dumb bastard," Simon cut in.

George was not satisfied, "Tatani, we got to..."

Tatani looked up, and said: "Dinga is dead. What does he care what we do with him?"

George did not back down.

"We have no food left. This is all shit. It's time to go home."

The Pitbull rose, preparing to restore some order, but Tatani waved him back.

"We got to go home," Tatani mimicked, "I watch you – all of you – you're scared. You hold hands when you leave the camp. Moving in pairs, like women, each time you have to piss or shit."

And one of you sons of bitches is a traitor who I'm going to flay alive.

"Yeah but..." George began, but Tatani moved quickly. Using the white cloth he was holding he plucked a tin can out of the fire, it glowed red and steamed in the darkness. Before George could react Tatani plunged it into his bare chest. It hissed as it melted George's skin, working through the layers. George screamed and rolled away shrieking.

"Ya burnt me. Ya burnt my skin."

He ran to the stream to douse the wound.

Tatani looked around at the others. "No one leaves. I swear I will take you down if you try."

Chris moved along the bank of the river. He had two spears and the knife strapped to his waist. He stepped soundlessly through the knee-high scrub, his eyes straining to sight any movement in the darkness. But he saw and heard nothing unusual; just the rush of the stream, and a breeze stirring the branches overhead.

He had been hunting for several hours now. Knowing that Tatani was downstream of the rapids he had moved upstream. He had wanted to hunt Tatani, but he had suppressed the urge. They had not eaten for several days and they needed food. But so far the hunt had been a waste. He had failed to encounter a single animal. It was a brutal twist, as only days ago, when they had not been hungry, the bush had been full of animals. Back then he believed he could hunt and kill at will.

An hour later things had not improved and Chris' enthusiasm had passed. He was tired and angry. Stu expected him to bring food, and he did not want to fail him. But he could not kill animals that he could not see. Hunger made him weak and disoriented. His movements became clumsy and noisy and he realised another irony.

Without food he was too weak to hunt. To catch food he needed food. It was a circular and inescapable reality.

With a deep bitterness he conceded defeat.

Chapter 21

Lara struggled to sleep because the room was always light and, unable to tell time, she could never be certain when the man was likely to return. His presence was like a toxic shadow that remained even after he left. She feared him. Her life depended, it seemed, on his whims. He could make her cease to exist at any moment he chose.

He had returned several times. And she was cautious to distance herself from him, but was also careful not to upset him. He was a psychopath. Although he spoke and interacted with her, he treated her as a thing. Something inanimate, that he could desensitise himself from. She was a thing that he could do what he wanted with. He took photos of her obsessively. The last time he had come he had forced her into the corner, grabbed her arm and spiked her wrist with a pin. She tried to resist, kicking and hitting him, and he pinned her against the wall with his own body, and smeared the blood from her wrist over his face and neck.

"Our time is limited," he explained, inhaling the blood that was still dripping from her wrist, "your life is fickle and can end at any moment. Like this I can take a piece of you home with me. I can wear you around with me constantly. Even when I wipe the blood off me, it remains; traces of you in the pores of my skin."

Lara sat presently leaning against the wall. She forced herself to think. She had to find a way out the cell. If she didn't, it would become her concrete coffin.

The next day hunger paralysed them.

Stu sat inside watching the shadow cast by the roof of the cave creep slowly inwards, and then retreat in the afternoon. Hunger left him lethargic. He took turns with Chris checking on Tatani's men from the Lion's Head, and going to the river for water. They had planned to build further defences for the cave but were incapable.

Abe was propped up against the wall of the cave asleep. Stu tried to give him water as best he could. But Stu knew that water alone was not enough to save him. Left alone Abe would have died days ago. Abe was unable to walk and was completely dependent on them now for water and food. The infection had spread from his leg to other parts of his body. It was affecting his breathing. Often times his breathing stopped and Stu would look at him (afraid, but too drained to do anything) sensing that Abe might not breathe again, but Abe would suck in air like a tired accordion. His face was white and his features were sunken.

The big man's deterioration was profound. He had been a giant on the outside. Muscled and towering over all of them. Now he was frail. But without medicine they could not cure his infection. They could keep him hydrated and that was all.

And Lara. Stu thought constantly about her. But his thoughts had become random and vague. He fought to keep her alive in his mind. Sometimes he saw her face clearly, but other times her features were indistinct and unrecognisable. He knew he needed to get out to save her. He had been placing a pebble in his pocket every morning to track the passing of the days, but he was too delirious now to know if he had missed a day. He had sixteen pebbles, but they could have been in the bush many more days than that.

Stu's stomach spasmed with hunger, and he curled up fighting the pain.

The men continued their search along the river. They had divided into two groups, but this time Tatani had positioned the Pitbull on the northern bank to keep watch, and Simon and Karl were to maintain order on the southern side.

It was mid afternoon when Tedo caught up with George. They were high on the northern slope.

"Bloody hot isn't it George."

A bug settled on George's nose and he swept it away. "Yes."

"Stop moving for a bit," Tedo said, placing his hand on George's shoulder, "those bastards aren't around. And even if they are, why would you want to find them? They'd get a spear into you."

George stopped and looked at Tedo. He fidgeted uneasily. Tatani had told him to search so that was what he was doing. The burn on his chest was still raw. Tedo admired George's simple obedience. It was useful.

"Listen to me George. This whole situation is so screwed up. I mean what was Tatani doing burning you last night?"

This was not the first time Tedo had spoken like this with George.

"Look at us George," Tedo continued, "we're eating bloody roo. And how long have we been searching in this shithole?"

George shrugged.

"Dinga's dead George. They speared him."

George nodded.

"You want out George?"

George's face tightened as he turned things over in his dopey brain. "Yeah."

"Good George," Tedo said, stepping in close, "now listen to me."

Night. Chris moved slowly through the trees. He came to a rise where the trees parted, and he stood swaying on the spot. Exhausted. Angry. Defeated.

A sudden compulsion told him to toss his spears and knife away. What good were weapons when there was nothing to kill?

He had been hunting for several hours and failed the same as last night. Earlier he had been focused, suppressing his hunger and mustering a final effort. He had sharpened his spears and painted himself with mud. Then he had crossed to the other side of the river to hunt in fresh grounds. But it had not helped.

He struggled to concentrate. The confidence of previous hunts had left him. There might be animals around, but he was too wasted to see and hear them.

How could he hunt under these conditions? The ironic circle returned to him.

He was hunting because he needed food. But he needed food to hunt.

His anger swelled; a deep anger for the situation, for the bush, the darkness, the shadows, and the men that were hunting them.

Chris' fury peaked just as he came upon the body of the man Abe had killed two nights ago. He saw the boot protruding from behind the scrub. He stopped.

A sudden urge compelled him to run from the place. There was only death here and bad things. But another urge, more primal, more instinctive, compelled Chris to stay.

He moved up the slope and stood over the body.

The dead man lay on his back. The spear rammed through his chest had slumped to one side. The blood on the ground had dried into a dark stain that looked hard and permanent, as if it would never leave the place.

The body was remarkably in tact. Positioned in the shade the elements had not decomposed it. The man's eyes had been taken; plucked out by an opportunistic animal leaving a pair of hollow sockets. Chris prodded the man's shoulder with his foot. It did not give. He pressed the man's arm and leg. They were the same. Death had made him rigid like wood. If he forced one of the arms to bend it might snap like a piece of chalk.

As Chris stared down at the body the world around him; the trees, the scrub, the river and sky, seemed to retreat. It was as if he had entered a trance where nothing else existed. Just him and the dead man and his gnawing hunger. Chris did not feel pity for the man. The man had come out here to hunt them; to kill them, only he had got killed instead. The dead man was an extension of the Pitbull and Tatani, and the reason he and Stu and Abe were stuck out here hungry. The man was the reason Abe was infected and dying. The man was the reason Chris would have to return to the cave empty handed, and face Stu as a failure.

Two powerful urges, hunger and anger, merged into a single force; brutal and unstoppable.

Before Chris knew what he was doing he had rolled the body onto its stomach. He drew his knife and cut through the fabric of the man's pants leg, exposing the white-grey flesh beneath. He stuck the point of his knife into the man's shin so that it made an audible pop. Then he started carving flesh from the man's leg.

Stu was awake when Chris entered the cave. He saw that he had no animal, but his hands were full of something. Chris held the meat out to him.

"Food."

Stu took a piece and Chris lay another piece in Abe's lap.

"A fire?" Stu asked.

"Too dangerous," Chris replied, "they might see the smoke."

Stu looked at the meat in his hands. There was something different about it. It was cold. There was no fur. It bled, but not as much as other animal meat. He caught Chris' eye and Chris looked away. The gesture carried shame and indignation, and Stu guessed where the meat had come from.

Suddenly there was the sound of chewing. Chris was eating the meat. Blood and juices spilt out of Chris' mouth and over his chin. He bit and chewed and swallowed. Then he was biting and chewing again.

Seeing Chris eating stirred the hunger inside Stu. He began to eat also. Frenzied biting and chewing filled the cave. Stu knew what they were eating. Stu knew what they had become. But he did not care. Now that he had started eating he could not stop. Hunger ruled him. He tore at the meat. Ashamed. Angered. Desperate. And as he ate he noticed that Abe was eating also.

Once the eating was done Stu stood, breathing fast, his face covered in blood. The fire in his belly had vanished. And now that the hunger had passed it was difficult to remember just how intense it had been. Guilt set in.

Stu tried to convince himself that there had been no proof. That he had eaten the meat without really knowing what it was. But he had known. Chris' behaviour had confirmed things just as surely as if he had announced it.

But we had no choice.

Stu became angry. He had not asked for any of this. Tatani had forced it on them. Abe swiped at his face trying to get the blood off his mouth. Chris stilled his hands and smeared the blood over Abe's cheeks in long streaks.

"It is alright," Chris said, "they made us like this. They hunt us like animals."

"But we can beat them," Stu said, "we can attack them with spears. And..."

As Stu spoke he sensed the blood of the dead man mixing with his own. And he realised just how far he had descended. Cannibalism. He could not pretend it to be any other way. He felt a deep loathing for the men that hunted them. They had suffered; Deano and James were dead, Abe was injured, and they were constantly fighting to survive. But now that Stu had eaten he felt strong. The men were more in number and they had guns, but that did not matter. They could kill them.

Now that they had eaten from the dead man; what was killing?

Stu stood and gathered his spears.

"They will not leave. So we kill them."

They had painted themselves with mud. Chris had his knife strapped to his waist, and they each carried two spears, as they moved quickly downstream.

Following the smoke from the men's fire, they found the camp. Crouched in the thick scrub, they could see everything. The men were sleeping around the fire. Stu counted them. Nine. Ten less the dead one back upstream. Stu's initial instinct was to steal a rifle (with a rifle they could even the balance) but the men held their rifles close while they slept. Stu saw Tatani sleeping in the centre of the group. The Pitbull lay back from the others at the base of a tree cradling his rifle.

Stu settled lower in the scrub and felt the mud cracking around his joints. He was not afraid, instead, he was precisely aware of what he would do if one of the men detached himself from the group. Stu felt no apprehension; the time in the bush, and all that Tatani had subjected them to, had changed him. Drawing blood and killing were as common now as meeting friends for a drink back home. And this was for Lara.

Suddenly one of the men stirred. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and stumbled into the scrub, clutching his stomach.

The man felt a gurgling in his stomach. The roo meat did not agree with him.

In a rush to relieve himself, he found a clear section of bush, and squatted. He closed his eyes while he waited for the movements in his belly to descend.

The snap of a branch distracted him.

His bowels contracted as he peered through the dark mesh of trees. But there was nothing, just a solid blanket of black. The cold air sobered him and he remembered where he was. He remembered Dinga. He remembered the prey. He realised he was unarmed.

He rocked back on his heals, urging his body to get things over with.

There was another crunching sound from the darkness. The man glared at the trees to his right. But he saw nothing there.

The grumbling in his stomach dropped lower.

Stu and Chris were positioned either side of the man, concealed in the dense foliage. On Chris' signal Stu would rush at the man and spear him. He would aim for the chest. Chris would do the same.

And then it happened.

Chris gave no signal, he merely charged through the scrub. A swiftly moving shadow in the trees. Stu ran too, and he got his spear into the man first. There was an instant of resistance before his spear slid deep into the man's side. He saw the man's face stark in the moonlight, his eyes rolling back inside his head. Then Stu was past the man and running away into the bush. Behind him, he heard Chris take his turn. There was a muffled groan, and then the sounds of a struggle and screaming.

Already injured from the first attack the man tried to get in behind the tree to protect himself, but the second figure was too quick. There was a sharp wrenching as a spear gouged his left thigh. His vision turned white, and he blanked out for an instant. When he came too he felt a grating sensation as if his insides were being ripped out. His attacker was tugging at the spear in his abdomen, trying to pull it out.

The man shouted and punched at the figure's face. The blow glanced off the attacker's forehead but it was enough to knock him back. The man got up and ran.

He plundered through the trees, his left side bloated from the spear that was still in him. The man ripped the spear out as he moved, the pain excruciating, gut wrenching. He screamed, wailing like a child, calling out for anyone. He could hear movement behind him. Branches breaking and heavy breathing. The savage was after him.

The man kept moving but he was losing a lot of blood. His legs began to seize, and he found it difficult to keep his balance. He stumbled and went down on one knee, and started to crawl frantically.

But he could not escape. The prey was too close. He braced himself for a spear in the back. And then...

The bush was torn apart by a gunshot.

The man turned and saw his attacker running away. He looked back toward where he thought the camp was, and saw movement in the trees. More gunshots tore through the bush. The man tried to stand up but his legs refused to respond. He saw the giant gash in his side. He passed out.

Tatani moved quickly through the trees. Unlike the others, he did not use his flashlight. A flashlight allowed you to see within the scope of its beam, but outside of that you were blind. Instead, Tatani let his eyes adjust to the darkness, seeing more but with less clarity. He moved in brief incisive bursts before stopping to listen. But all he heard was the rummaging of his own men. And all he saw was the slicing beams of their torches.

Simon was with him. "Bastards are hunting us."

"Sticks versus our guns," Tatani retorted.

"I know," Simon responded, "we will take them out. But the fact that they are hunting us will not sit well with the other men. They were already freaking after what happened to Dinga. And now Jake."

Earlier, they had found Jake unconscious in the scrub. Jake's wounds had bled profusely, but in the dark it was difficult to assess just how serious his injuries were. One of the men had bandaged Jake up and Tatani had instructed his men to spread out and search the bush. Tatani listened now, to the commotion all around him.

Useless.

If only it was just he and Simon. Then they would have half a chance.

Tatani hauled his radio out.

"Any sighting?"

Silence.

Tatani moved again and stopped, straining to listen.

How could they hope to find the kids in the darkness, when everything appeared the same? The savages were like phantoms, coming and going as they pleased.

The savages had attacked them; purposefully. What happened to Dinga two days ago might have been a crazy accident or an act of self-defence. But this was different.

"Searching further in the dark is useless," Tatani raged.

He raised his men on the radio.

"Alright. Enough. Get back to camp and we'll hunt these bastards down tomorrow in the daylight."

Chapter 22

Chris stood on the rocks above the rapids. The morning sunlight caught on the mist rising from the rapids making it glisten, and he felt the cool moisture on his face. He had his knife out and was twisting it in front of him watching the sunlight leap off its blade. He liked the way the knife felt in his hand. Power.

They had power over the men. Last night had proved it. They had speared one of the men, and the others had been shooting at shadows. And the men had no idea where they were hiding.

Tatani stepped around the sleeping bodies of his men, and went to the river to drink. The bush looked fresh and untouched in the morning light, making the turmoil of the previous night seem inconceivable. But the memories pounded Tatani's brain.

Jake was in a bad way. His wounds had bled profusely until Karl had set them tight again with bandages. They had wrapped Jake in warm clothes, and laid him close to the fire to keep him warm. But this morning Jake's bandages were stained dark brown from the blood he lost during the night.

Tatani was extremely tired. Sleep had been impossible. His problems were mounting.

But Tatani would not leave the bush while the savages survived. To do so would reek of failure. But the savages were untraceable phantoms. They owned the nights. They terrorised his men after dark, and vanished in the daylight.

And the mole, the traitor in his group; why was it taking Raven so long to identify him? More than anything else this complication drained Tatani. He could not trust any of his men until the traitor was rooted out.

Cupping water in his hands Tatani splashed it over his face. He glared at the mountains on the opposite bank. They were vast. It would take weeks to search them. He splashed more water over his face, and was about to stand when something caught his eye.

It was a flash of light from up toward the rapids. It was as if the light had caught on something metal or glass. But there was no metal or glass out in the bush.

He raced back to the camp to get his binoculars. Through them he scanned the land up beyond the rapids.

"Son of a bitch."

There, standing at the water's edge was one of the savages. Clad only in jeans, the kid was drinking from the stream. The Pitbull's knife was strapped to the savage's side, its blade reflecting the sunlight.

Chris helped Abe drink.

"We got one of them last night," Chris said, "they are shitting themselves."

Abe's mouth twitched as if he were attempting to smile.

Stu burst into the cave.

"They're moving. They're packed up and moving. I saw them from the Lion's Head."

Tatani moved quickly, and the other men struggled to keep up. Tatani had informed the men that he had seen one of the prey. At first the men had refused to believe him, thinking it was a trick to raise their spirits, but Tatani's enthusiasm was too real to be put on.

Tatani knew now that he had made a mistake. He had assumed, because he had last seen the kids jumping in the stream that they had gone over the rapids, and were hiding downstream. He had confined the search to the area below the rapids. But he had been wrong, and the error had cost him days. The kids were hiding above the rapids, and travelling downstream to terrorise them in the night.

But he had a sighter of the savages now, and he knew their position. There would be tracks. He would hunt them. Not just for himself but for Jake and for Dinga.

_Dinga_.

Tatani's stomach tightened. Dinga's body had been up there for several days. It would not be pretty.

"What happened to him?"

"Something got at him."

"Animals?"

"Vicious animals."

The men were standing over Dinga's body. The position of the body had changed since they last saw it. He had been on his back then, with the spear in his chest. Now he was on his stomach with the spear beside him. A swarm of flies hovered over the body. His skin had turned a sallow green-grey, and lost its form. His eyes had been taken, exposing grey sockets. Tatani saw all of this, but it did not interest him. What interested him was the back of Dinga's legs.

Tatani crouched beside Dinga's body. His movements upset the flies and they rose in a blur. Tatani saw that both pant legs had been torn, and the flesh stripped between the ankle and knee. White bone was visible.

But something was not right.

Tatani lifted one of Dinga's pant legs. It was stained with blood, and dried hard like cardboard. The cut edge was straight. Tatani studied the wound underneath. It was also neat.

The other leg was the same.

It was as if the flesh had been sliced from Dinga's body. There were no ragged edges to suggest the work of a scavenging animal. Both legs had been cut identically while the rest of the body remained untouched.

The conclusion struck Tatani, and he stepped back.

"Not animals," he said to the others.

The men stared at him, not comprehending. Tatani spelt it out for them.

"Dinga's legs have been cut with a knife. The savages have cut him up. They ate him."

The men struggled to fathom his words. The meaning was clear but the improbability too great. Someone stumbled into the trees and threw up. The others stood in dismay, fighting their nausea.

"We've got to bury him. To preserve his dignity."

Tatani did not believe his words – what was dignity to a dead man – but the words were important for the others.

"We are in a fight now, different to the fights we have been in on the outside. Dinga was one of our brothers. Just as we remain brothers to each other. And Dinga must be avenged. We cover him up and then we get after the bastards that did this to him. We take them out together."

Stu strained to listen. He heard the scraping of boots, and a wash of static from a radio. The man was close. Stu could hear him in the trees on the other side of the rock slab. It was only a matter of time before the man found the passage. But there was still the spike pit and Chris' cliff top defences.

Earlier, Stu had believed that the men were leaving, but instead the men had returned to the valley and buried the dead man. Something had drawn them back. Maybe it was the next logical step in their search, returning to where they had last seen them. But the reason the men had returned did not matter. All that mattered was that the men were back and searching again.

When the men began searching the mountainside, Stu and Chris had armed themselves with spears and got into position. Chris had climbed the mountain to where he had rigged his boulder. Abe had been stationed inside the cave, and Stu had moved down to the rock slab that obscured the entrance to the cave.

Stu glanced down the passage. The branches they had positioned at the entrance looked all wrong. The man outside was going to look at it and wonder why the scrub was so thick in that one place.

He's going to come and fall in the spike pit.

And Stu knew then that all hell would break lose. The other men would come, and Chris would let his boulder drop.

Stu thought about getting over the rock slab and attacking the man with his spear. Kill him before he raised the alarm, or take him prisoner. But what if the other men are close by?

Suddenly Stu heard garbled words from the man's radio. The man paused. Then when the voices ceased the man moved away.

Chapter 23

Lara was alert at the first sound on the steps outside. She stood against the far wall, straightening her clothes, and covering herself. A key clattered in the lock, and the heavy door swung open.

Opens inward – not outward.

She noted this fact as the man appeared in the doorway. His bald head shone in the glare cast by the light globe.

Lara held her ground. She was terrified of him. Terrified of what he had done to her, and what he had done to the other girls in his photos. But she would not expose her fear to him again. She must remain strong. She sensed that the man fed off her fear.

"Day ten princess and your friends haven't shown up yet?"

"Where are they?"

The man ignored the question.

"Brought you something," he said, offering a brown carry bag filled with clothes.

He placed the bag on the floor. Then he set a box of food and water inside the door. He straightened, and adjusted his genitals through his trousers and sighed.

"So beautiful."

Then he nodded at the bag.

"Clothes," he said.

"Did your boss ask you to mind me?"

The man grimaced, and Lara froze awaiting his reaction.

The question had broken the man's momentum. The man had turned the situation into the two of them. Lara's question had reintroduced Tatani. Tatani's orders had been to keep her safe, and not to touch her.

"You going to try on the clothes?" he asked.

Lara distracted him.

"Where are my friends?"

The man tensed and then smiled, and said: "I guess it can't hurt because you're never leaving this place. They're in the bush. My boss is hunting them."

He laughed.

"A pig hunt without pigs."

Tears pressed at Lara's eyes, but she held them back. She would not display weakness to this man.

"It's a game. If they get out – you get out. If they die – you die."

"What is your name?"

Lara knew that the question was a risk. Sharing his name with her would force the man to consider her as something more than a thing. The man bit his lip, confused by the interaction. But realising he could do away with her whenever he wanted he decided that no harm could come from revealing his name.

"Frank. You?"

"Lara."

"Lara. Laaa – ra." The man sung her name to himself, sounding out each syllable.

"Are you going to try on the clothes?"

Lara shook her head. He nodded slowly, the ice returning to his voice.

"Yes. You must try on the clothes."

Lara deflected his attention. "Where is this place?"

"Underground."

"But where?"

"In the middle of the bloody city," he laughed, "the god damn CBD, princess. Think about it. Right above your head people are walking and shopping. Thousands of people. While you're down here – you know – dying."

Lara did not know it, but Frank had been stunned when Tatani put him in charge of her. Normally he had to look hard for his girls, and here Tatani had handed one to him on a platter. And this one was beautiful; kind of Asian but kind of not. Dark hair and skin. Frank was wary of Tatani, but he was also taken by this girl. Frank spent his days thinking of nothing other than the time in the evening when he was to visit her; when it was just him and her, and he could do what he wanted with her.

"Who's your boss?"

"Put on the clothes."

Frank's features tensed as if a pressure were building inside him, and Lara decided she should do as he asked. She undid her blouse and took off her jeans. He had his camera out, and was snapping pictures. She slipped the dress from the bag over her head. Two thin straps held it over her shoulders, and it reached to just below her thighs. He continued to take pictures, as she stood in the dress with her arms folded.

He stepped closer. She held her ground. Her muscles were drawn tight ready to spring if he touched her. But he stopped half a metre from her. He smelt her and breathed her in, his chin lifting like he was appraising a fine meal.

"Lovely," he said, "you shall wear the dress tomorrow when I arrive. I want to see you in it, as our time together is running out."

He leant in and smelt her hair one more time then he left. Lara listened to his footsteps retreating up the staircase outside. And as Lara's breathing returned to normal she started assembling the only weapon she had; information.

Karl heard it first. It was early morning and the sky was starting to lighten. Karl roused Tatani.

"What?" Tatani muttered.

"Chopper."

Tatani was instantly alert. He heard the mechanical rumble of a helicopter. The sounds were distant but clear in the still morning. What was a helicopter doing out here. Was it Jordie, or some other random flight, co-incidentally flying over the area. He looked around and seeing two empty sleeping bags confirmed his suspicions.

"Bastards."

Tatani grabbed his rifle and called to the Pitbull.

"Pitbull. Your rifle. Come on."

The pair started down the slope before Tatani yelled back to Karl.

"Get on the phone and call Jordie off. Get him out of here."

Tedo and George moved quickly across the plain downstream of the rapids. The chopper was visible, approaching from the west. This was their way out. Their one chance to get away from the prey, and away from Tatani who had become increasingly unstable. They had not bothered to take their packs. Where they were going they had no use for the packs. George carried a torch that he would use to signal Jordie, and Tedo carried a rifle. Tedo intended to shove it in Jordie's face, and tell him to fly them out of here; out of the bush and out of Tatani's world. Tedo was under no illusions. After going behind Tatani's back and calling Jordie, there was no longer a place for him with Tatani's group. Once they were out of the bush Tedo was going overseas, and big dopey George could do whatever he liked.

Tedo looked back. The mountains were still too close. Tatani's rifle had a range that was three times the distance.

"Signal him George."

George took the torch and dashed away to signal to the chopper as Tedo slipped into the trees. He would come out once the chopper had landed.

Tatani shouted into his walkie talkie as he ran.

"Turn the mobile on Karl. Get it working."

A wash of static and then Karl's voice.

"Won't work. I'm telling you, I know how to turn a phone on. The thing won't work."

Tatani's mind was clouded by fury. He could see the chopper descending, the red beacon lights blinking on its tail. The chopper's search light snapped on, and in its glare, Tatani saw a figure, jumping and waving.

Sons of bitches. They are getting away.

Karl's voice broke Tatani's thoughts.

"Battery. It's gone. They took it."

Bastards. Sons of bitches. How long have they planned this for?

Tatani moved quickly across the mountain. The chopper had descended below tree level. Tatani knew that he would never reach the chopper, and this was as close as he would get. He assessed the distance. Two-fifty – three hundred metres, and he held an elevated position. They were in range.

Karl spoke again.

"Tatani, use the radio you're talking to me on now. If you know Jordie's frequency you might get through to his CB."

Yes.

Tatani twisted the frequency dial of his walkie talkie until he hit on the equivalent frequency he had seen Jordie use inside his chopper.

"Jordie. This is Tatani. Pull up. Do not set down."

Tedo was in the trees watching George jumping in the glare of the chopper's searchlight. He could see Tedo inside the illuminated cabin of the chopper.

"Put her down Jordie. Come on," Tedo said out loud.

Then suddenly, with its landing skids a metre from the ground, the chopper lurched back into the air.

"No! Get down!" Tedo shouted.

Tedo watched in disbelief. The ground was flat. It was the perfect place to land. Then Tedo saw Jordie talking on the radio inside the cabin. Tedo knew then that their game was up. Somehow Tatani had contacted Jordie.

Tedo retreated into the trees leaving George jumping and waving at the chopper.

"Ah – that's it Jordie. Get out of there."

From his position high on the mountain Tatani watched the chopper ascend. Karl's idea of using the hand held to contact Jordie had worked. Tatani screwed the telescopic sighter into his rifle, and chambered a round.

"Alright, so who have we got out here?"

Peering through the sighter he saw George standing in a dust storm, jumping and signaling at the chopper.

"George," Tatani sighed, "you dopey bastard. Why would you do this to me?"

"It was not his idea," the Pitbull said.

The Pitbull knew that George was too stupid to organise things, and the scheme had been all Tedo's. Only Tedo had the presence of mind to get into cover somewhere.

Tatani said: "I agree, but George made the choice."

Tatani knew that Tedo was likely part of it. Only yesterday Karl had reported seeing Tedo lurking around the camp when the others were searching. But Tatani would show no mercy. He had been wronged and he would make things right.

"Stay still George," Tatani said.

The rifle bucked in Tatani's arms.

Tatani stood over George's body, appraising it without emotion. The bullet had taken George in the back, and a large blood stain had spread over his grey shirt. Tatani prodded the body with the point of his rifle. The body did not flinch.

"Tedo did this to him," the Pitbull said.

Tatani looked at the trees. If Tedo had run he would be far away by now. Hunting him would take time. Better they planned it properly. Out here, Tedo could not escape.

Tatani picked up George's rifle, and said: "Let's go back to the others. Come on."

"We just leave him here?" the Pitbull asked, "the savages we're hunting might eat him."

Tatani shrugged and walked away.

When Tatani returned to camp he set his rifle against a tree and drank from his water bottle. The men were confused. They knew Tedo and George were missing. Simon had done his best to retain order in his father's absence, but confusion remained.

"Yes, that was a chopper," Tatani explained, "and no, no one is leaving."

The men watched him in silence.

"Some people tried to get out without us," Tatani continued matter of factly, "and yes you heard a gunshot, and one of them is lying out there, bent out of shape. The chopper is gone. It will come back for us when we are ready."

One of the men muttered something under his breath. Tatani heard it.

"What did you say?"

The man was silent.

"Say it," Tatani said, "so everyone can hear."

"Jake is injured. He could have gone out with the chopper," the man said.

"Yes," Tatani said, "but he didn't. The hunt is still on and he is part of it. And if anyone is thinking about leaving, then they should take a look at George."

There, Tatani had told them. The men had heard one gunshot, it had either been Tedo or George, and now they knew. George had been stupid, but he had been popular in a dopey way.

"George tried to leave," Tatani said, "he made a bad choice. He..."

The sound of rustling in the bush interrupted Tatani. A few of the men got their rifles expecting one of the savages. But Tedo appeared. He was wet and breathing hard.

"I heard a chopper," he said, "what's going on."

Chapter 24

Tedo scanned the men and appeared to conclude that one was missing.

"Where's George? I heard a gunshot."

Simon drove him back into a tree. He pressed his forearm under Tedo's chin, crushing his windpipe, and cutting off his air.

"Bullshit. You know what happened."

Tedo's face turned bright red, and he struggled to speak.

Tatani appreciated Simon's approach; assertive and clear. But Tatani pulled his son back.

"He is a lying pig," Simon shouted and spat in Tedo's face.

"Easy Simon," Tatani said, "every man is entitled to a fair hearing."

Simon stepped back. Tatani turned to Tedo.

"George is dead. You were there. You saw it."

The tendon on Tedo's neck tightened, but otherwise he presented the perfect balance of shock at George's death, and fear of being wrongly accused.

"No Tatani. I know nothing about this. George is dead?"

Tatani eyed Tedo carefully. He had not expected to confront Tedo like this. He had envisioned hunting him. Having the men around made it difficult.

"I was up that way. I... " Tedo broke off, too flustered to speak. Tatani cocked his eyebrow, willing him to proceed.

"I thought I heard the savages in the bush. I went after them. I intended to kill them, for Dinga. For Jake."

Tatani shook his head. Tedo was a coward. The thought of him going after the savages was ridiculous.

"Bullshit."

"No Tatani. I swear. I heard the chopper and came back to see what was happening."

"Empty his bag. And George's," Tatani demanded, "look for my phone battery."

The Pitbull up-ended Tedo's bag. Clothes and other items tumbled onto the ground. Then he started on George's pack.

"This it?" the Pitbull held up a black mobile phone battery.

Tatani saw it and looked directly at Tedo, hoping to detect some failure in his features, but Tedo held his nerve.

"You took it and put it in George's pack," Tatani said.

But Tatani knew the other men were already being swayed by Tedo's story. And George was stupid enough to plant the battery in his own bag. But there was another way to unravel Tedo's lie.

"My phone. Bring it to me."

Tatani dialed Jordie, and the pilot answered on the first ring.

"Boss?"

"Who placed the call?"

"I don't understand?"

"You were called out. Who called you?"

"He said you were injured and needed to be lifted out. He said it was an emergency."

Jordie had broken protocol by flying out, and was seeking to cover himself. Tatani did not care.

"Just tell me who placed the call!"

"George."

"Okay. As you were Jordie."

Tatani hung up, and when he spoke next his tone was thick with sarcasm. So that those who believed Tedo's story would admire Tatani's justice, and those that thought Tedo was lying would admire Tatani's tact.

"Alright so the scheme was all George's. Tedo was just an unfortunate victim of co-incidence. Just happened to wander off the same time a chopper appears. But that can happen. At least I shot the right conspirator."

Then Tatani signaled the episode was closed (he would deal with Tedo in his own time) by changing the subject.

"Now we've got some savages to hunt. We split up. I want them today. Then we get out."

Stu and Chris remained in cover but kept an eye on the men searching the valley below. The recent sequence of events confused Stu. He had seen the chopper, and the men running, and had believed that the men might be leaving. But there had been shooting and the chopper had left. The men, it seemed, had turned on each other.

"Maybe they might just kill each other," Stu said, "save us the trouble."

Tatani was stunned when Maurice called him after dark. Tatani took the call out of earshot of the others.

Let's see what this traitorous shit has got to say

"Maurice," Tatani said cautiously.

"Tatani. Thank Christ I got you. You got to get back here. Things are so screwed up."

Tatani could hear voices in the background.

"Shut up Maurice. Get yourself some place secure and tell me the facts."

The voices stopped and Tatani realised it had been a television or radio.

"I'm already secure. Tatani, we're in some serious shit. The diamonds are not real!"

Tatani remained sceptical. "What?"

"Fakes Tatani! The diamonds are fakes!"

"How do you know?"

"Confirmed twice. Once by my jeweler who was supposed to buy them. Said they were fakes and weren't worth shit. So then I took them to a legit place. I didn't want us getting done over for nothing. The legit guy, I paid him a sum for his silence, said the same. Said they were better than the usual fakes, whatever you call them cubic scoria things. But fakes! They're worth shit."

Tatani was silent.

"And Volker knows," Maurice added, "that bastard who organises everything for him, Leroy, has been around. Somehow he's got a sniff of the diamonds being fakes. He said the diamonds Volker exchanged were authentic and, shit Tatani, the appraisers at the time of the transfer said the same. Something's happened Tatani, Volker gave us real diamonds, and now we got fake diamonds, and I don't know what the hell is going on. I have to get Volker his ice delivery but with these worthless stones I don't have any money to pay for the shipment. It's all screwed up Tatani."

"Maurice you thieving lying rat. I'm going to rip your tongue out and serve it up with your heart," Tatani said.

"Na – na – no. Not me Tatani. I haven't taken shit."

"I have eyes everywhere Maurice and those eyes have seen you with the opposition. You traitorous bastard."

When Maurice spoke next his voice was cautious as if his life depended on each word he said.

"No Tatani. I don't know what you have seen or heard. But I went back to the jeweler that appraised the diamonds in the van, he swears they're not the same stones he saw. Then I tried to shift them on the sly to Kandy. Bastard didn't want anything to do with them. I'm no rat Tatani. And I've got a pile of heat coming down on me, Volker and that bastard Leroy are..."

Maurice broke off. When his voice returned he was whispering, on edge.

"They're here Tatani. The bastards are here."

"What?"

"My place. Shit and hell. They're inside..."

Maurice's fear was tangible through the phone.

"Maurice. Talk to me."

But all Tatani heard was the sound of movement. He strained to listen. He thought he heard Maurice's stunted breathing. Footsteps. Then two loud bangs, and the sound of the phone hitting a hard surface, before the line was broken.

"What?"

Tatani stared at the phone perplexed. Tatani dialed Maurice's number, but the call failed to connect.

What is going on? Maybe Raven can check it out.

Tatani dialed the mercenary, and Raven answered after two rings.

"Tatani?"

"There's a problem with Maurice. He's..."

"Dead," Raven said.

"What?"

"Dead. I just shot him."

Raven explained things.

"He was getting cosy with too many players. I thought I'd find out what he was doing. So I paid him a visit at his home. Just for a talk. I heard voices and thought there were a couple of them inside. The lights were out and the bastard was hiding in his bedroom. He jumped me in the dark. I couldn't see shit so I shot him. It turned out the voices were coming from his television."

Tatani digested it all. He no longer knew what to believe. Maybe Maurice had been clean. Maybe all those meetings that Raven had witnessed were as Maurice had described; that he had actually been trying to correct the problem with the diamonds.

"Do you think he was the insider?"

"I don't know."

"Then we're not done Raven. I want proof. And it looks like you have two missions, and both lead, it seems, to the same place; I want the mole and I want Volker. Find one you find the other. If you go after Volker, I believe you will unearth the rat."

"As you wish."

Tatani hung up, and in the same instant, another permutation struck him.

The prey. The savages have the diamonds. They switched them.

The diamonds may have been authentic at the exchange in the van. But the prey had taken them, before Karl and the Pitbull had apprehended them. And a couple of days ago the savage he had shot had offered the diamonds to him. At the time Tatani had dismissed it as a desperate attempt by the savage to save his life. But maybe it was the truth.

Tatani needed the diamonds back and he knew the first place to look.

Raven was buzzing when he descended the stairs from Maurice's apartment. He spat on the welcome mat to the apartment block, and stepped out into the night. Maurice's attack had rattled him. Maurice had clearly been expecting someone. You didn't attack someone, shooting without identifying your target, unless you were in a shitload of trouble. And Maurice had confirmed as much when he lay dying at Raven's feet. Maurice's words had been weak as he choked on his own blood.

"Le... Le... Leroy... said you'd come. I did what they..."

Raven had known Maurice was dying, and he tried to get as much information out of him.

"Were you working against Tatani?'"

Maurice shook his head and said: "No. No. Na. Never. Pro... tect...him."

"Protecting him? From who?"

"... olker."

"Volker? There was a mole in Tatani's Group, who?"

Maurice shook his head.

Maurice's blood was everywhere and Raven stepped back to avoid it.

"No there wasn't a mole? Or no, you don't know who?"

Maurice abruptly stopped breathing, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The exchange had left Raven uneasy. Strangely, although they had never met, it was as if Maurice had recognised him; as if Maurice had been expecting him.

Or expecting someone else.

Raven did not dwell on the notion. Tatani had established his next objective. Tatani wanted him to find Volker. If he found Volker he would find the mole. And Kandy was the next stop in the journey.

"The dead one back up river?"

Tatani and Karl were standing away from the other men. Tatani had already told Karl the detail of Maurice's call.

"That dead kid offered the diamonds," Tatani explained, "I thought it was a trick to save his life, but now I am not so sure. I want you to go back and search the kid's body."

The kid's body was several hours walk away. If Karl left now he would be lucky to return before midnight. The savages preferred the dark.

"I go back alone?" Karl asked.

"No. You take Tedo with you."

"Someone else Tatani. Surely."

Tatani shook his head.

"No. You take Tedo. But he's got a one-way ticket Karl. He is a traitor. I know it. We both know Tedo called the chopper up. George paid for that. Tedo has no loyalty Karl. We eliminate Tedo and this situation with the mole is closed. Make it look like the savages got him."

Chapter 25

The trees crowded in. The air was cold but Tedo was sweating freely. He tried to see between the trees, but it was impossible with all the shadows. Something moved in the vegetation and Tedo readied his rifle.

"It's nothing you jumpy bastard. Put your gun down," Karl said.

Karl had had enough of Tedo. He was a coward and lazy. He moved slowly, and complained constantly.

"Do you think we'll see them coming?" Tedo asked, "Jake didn't see them coming. And I don't reckon Dinga saw the kid that got him. That big bastard just came out of the scrub like a..."

"Shut up Tedo. If we don't hear them coming it will be because of your whining."

"Shit Karl. How stupid is this? We've been walking for hours and for what? Diamonds that won't even be there."

"They may be," Karl said, stopping to drink, "Tatani wants to make sure."

"Diamonds," Tedo laughed, "we shot the kid and left him with the diamonds. How stupid is that?"

Karl offered Tedo his walkie talkie.

"Contact Tatani and tell him how stupid you think it is."

Tedo dismissed the radio.

"I'm not contacting no one. This situation has gone so much to the shit."

Watching from the Lion's Head, Chris had seen the men leave. He had roused Stu, and taking their spears, they had followed the men. Stu had been alert to a trap; that the two men setting out alone might have been a plan to lure them into the open. But Abe was deteriorating and Lara needed Stu to get out. Stu saw the benefits that might come if they succeeded in wounding or killing another of the men. So they had taken their spears, and followed the men from a distance.

Two and a half hours after leaving their camp, Karl and Tedo arrived at the rock shelf where the kid had been killed. The site was unmistakable even in darkness. The kid had got to where Karl stood now, before Tatani had blown him off the ledge.

Karl shone his torch over the edge. It was a three metre drop to the bank below. The bank was narrow, two metres wide, and rocky. But it was empty.

"He's gone," Tedo said.

Karl climbed down and played his light over the rocks. The kid had cracked his head and bled, Karl searched for the blood stains.

"He ain't here. If he had the diamonds, they're gone now," Tedo said.

"Get your torch out and look."

Karl located the blood several minutes later; a large stain on the rocks. He touched the stain with his finger. It was dry. He looked up at the rock shelf. The stain was positioned in the right place. But where was the body?

Karl followed a trail of blood. The trail ended abruptly at the base of the rock shelf. The blood stains were heavy here suggesting the body had been in this position for some time. Karl tried to piece things together. He illuminated the area left and right, but found nothing. The trail of blood had vanished.

"Animals?" Tedo asked.

"Reckon so," Karl replied, "dragged him over here and fed while the kid bled out. Then they dragged the rest of him off some place. He might of had the diamonds, so we need to find the body."

"That's bullshit Karl. The body's gone. Let's get back to the others."

Karl shone his light into Tedo's face.

"You'll find a body or you'll have Tatani to answer to."

Stu was crouched with Chris in the scrub back from the rock shelf. They could see the men searching the riverbank with their torches. Stu recognised the place as where Deano had been shot?

But if they were searching for Deano, why could they not find him?

"We should attack them now," Chris said.

"No," Stu said, "it's too open. They will see us coming."

Half an hour later, having searched without success, Karl gave up. He rejoined Tedo who had been sitting down for the last ten minutes.

"You're a lazy son of a bitch."

Tedo was not perturbed. He said: "Kid's gone."

Karl raised Tatani on his walkie talkie.

"Yeah Karl, what you got?"

"Nothing Tatani. We're at the place where the kid fell. But he's not here."

"What do you mean – not here?" Tatani's voice was strained.

"Body's gone."

"I saw it. It can't have gone."

"I know Tatani. I saw it too. But it's gone. I reckon an animal took it. We followed a trail of blood, but that ended with nothing."

"You sure? You searched the entire area? There would be more blood."

"There's nothing Tatani. It's not a big place."

Silence, and when Tatani's voice returned it was remarkably controlled.

"Alright Karl. It's unlikely he had the diamonds anyway. More likely his savage mates have got them. Come back. But you're not finished yet – yeah?"

Karl glanced at Tedo. "Affirmative Tatani."

Karl forced Tedo to lead.

The fat man moved slowly. With the bush close on his right, and the river on his left, there was no place to run if the savages attacked. And being in front they were likely to attack him first. Tedo kept his rifle ready. His nerves were drawn tight, ready for anything.

"Hey Karl," Tedo sought to lighten the tension, "if the kid had the diamonds and then an animal, say a dingo, got the kid, then that means a dingo's got the diamonds now. How about we catch and gut every dingo in the area? Then we might get the diamonds back. A plan, yeah?"

Karl did not reply. Tedo's talk annoyed him. He wanted quiet so he could listen to the bush.

"Either that," Tedo persisted, "or we could examine every dingo shit on the way home. Thing that ate the diamonds might shit them out."

Karl watched Tedo in front of him. How would he do it? Tatani had asked that Karl make it look as if the savages had killed Tedo, therefore he could not shoot him. But Karl was an adaptable assassin. He studied Tedo's neck, and felt the hilt of the knife strapped to his side.

Stu and Chris watched the men stop to drink down on the riverbank. Ahead of the men, the riverbank ended abruptly, striking a sheer wall of dirt, several metres high. Stu remembered the place from the outward journey. Back then the men had deviated up the slope, and into the bush. They had used a thin track, a gutter formed by rainwater running off the mountain, to make their way back down to the river. The men would likely use the same track now.

Stu moved across the mountain, Chris followed. In time Stu located the trail that the men had used on the outward journey. It was two metres wide and free of vegetation. The bush was thick on both sides, making the path the logical choice for the men to climb the mountain.

And when they climbed the men would be off balance, and off guard.

Chris made a series of vivid hand gestures, concluding with a sawing motion across his throat. Stu understood. They separated. Stu crept into the scrub on the right side of the path and watched as Chris concealed himself lower down the mountain.

Karl assessed the blocked bank and then the dirt track leading up the slope. The track was risky. The savages could hide in the trees around it. But he could send Tedo up first.

"After you fat boy," Karl shoved Tedo forward.

Karl waited until Tedo was climbing, and then got his walkie talkie out.

"Tatani?"

"Karl. Where you at?"

"About half an hour out."

Tedo was on his hands and knees climbing the slope. Karl got his knife out and started after him.

"Things are in hand then?"

"Indeed," Karl muttered, "very close."

It would be easy to take Tedo now; left hand around Tedo's forehead pulling back, and the right hand sawing.

Karl's veins pulsed with adrenalin as he closed on Tedo. Now that he had determined to kill Tedo, he was like a machine, focused on one objective. The bush and everything else became a blur. He saw only the white strip of skin that was Tedo's neck.

"Stay close Tatani. It's co..."

Suddenly the bush either side of the dirt track erupted. Branches snapped amid a rush of movement, as two black shapes emerged from the darkness.

Karl managed to get his gun part way around to shoot before he was knocked down and a spear bore into his thigh. The pain was excruciating; a lancing like fire. He screamed and fired his rifle as he fell. The figure came at him again, but Karl kicked and the figure fell over him, and tumbled down the slope.

Karl got up. Pain tore through him as he ripped the spear out of his leg. He searched frantically for his rifle as he heard Tedo shouting higher up the slope.

"Stay close Tatani. It's co..."

Karl's voice was abruptly drowned out by the sounds of a struggle. Tatani held the radio close to his ear in mock concern.

He heard a gunshot, screaming, and then static.

The men were rendered mute with horror. Karl had worked things perfectly. Even Tatani's skin had crawled at the authenticity of Karl's show. Tatani waited for Karl to come back on the radio and report that the savages had attacked them and that Tedo was dead. But as the delay lengthened the men looked to Tatani for a response.

"Something has happened," Tatani said, "the savages may have attacked them. Karl said he was not far away. Get your guns. Simon, you remain with Jake."

The men moved quickly into the bush.

Back at the cave, Abe was in pain. Thirst burnt his throat. He had finished the water they had left him, but the infection had sapped the moisture from him. He knew he should have rationed the water, but it had been impossible.

Outside, everything was black. There had been only silence since the others had left him. How long ago had that been? Minutes. Hours. Days. Abe knew that Tatani's men were camped somewhere down near the river. But he did not care.

He was so hot and so thirsty. He needed water. He levered himself into a standing position, shivering on the spot.

"Don't move. For anything. Stay inside the cave."

That is what Stu had told him but Abe did not care. He needed water.

Chapter 26

Tatani could not believe it. He was fuming as he stood over Tedo's body. He did not care for Tedo, but Karl was missing. Tatani imagined what might have happened, but his visions failed to capture the actual brutality of the attack.

Earlier, Tedo had glimpsed a face a moment before a spear pierced his chest. He had heard his own ribs snap, and all at once he found it hard to breathe. Air seemed to be leaking out of him. He dropped his rifle as he toppled backwards.

He heard sounds around him and knew he must defend himself, but he could not react. His mind was working, but his body was incapable. His arms and hands refused to respond. He saw a figure coming at him.

He tried to get up but failed. The figure seemed to move past him. But then Tedo felt hands in his hair, under his chin, around his neck. He tried to get his arms up to fight, but they were useless. He slapped harmlessly at his attacker.

The last thing Tedo saw was a knife blade. And the last thing he felt was the blade finding his throat. The killing had been so brutal that Tedo's head had almost been severed from his body.

Tatani saw the irony of the situation. Karl's hoax to have the savages get Tedo had become reality. Tatani patted Tedo's pockets. They were empty. The savages had taken whatever was on him. What would that be? A radio, flashlight, bullets, maybe?

The other men were foraging through the bush, searching for Karl and any clues. Tatani's head throbbed with fury. He remembered Simon back at the camp and got his radio out.

"Simon come in."

"Yeah?"

"There has been trouble. Tedo is dead, Karl is missing."

"No?"

"Yes Simon. Be alert back there. The savages might think to raid the camp."

"I'll kill the bastards if they show themselves."

"Boss!"

Up the slope, Pitbull was holding a knife.

"I found it in the bush. The trees are trampled and broken. There was a struggle."

Tatani identified the knife as Karl's. But both Tedo's and Karl's rifles were missing.

Abe crawled through the dense bush at the base of the slope. The river was close now.

He had no idea how long it had taken him to get down the mountain. Avoiding the spike pit had been difficult. He had been forced to cling to the rock wall and edge sideways across it. Then he had slithered down the slope on his stomach.

He waited now, looking and listening. The bush was still and silent. He crawled to the water. When he had finished drinking he rolled away and lay on his back. The effort of descending the mountain had exhausted him.

He knew he had to get back up to the cave. He crawled into the trees and started up the mountain. He made good time but then the infectious fire inside him returned. The relief of the water had been temporary. His mind swirled, and his vision blurred. His body was racked by a sudden spasm. He lost his grip and fell down the slope and crashed head-first into a tree and blanked out.

"Abe. Abe. Big man, where are you?"

There was no response.

Stu was standing at the cave entrance. The sky carried the light pink of dawn. Chris shoved past Stu, and moved down the slope searching. Karl was lying inside the cave with his wrists bound behind his back by his own belt. He had tried to run after he had been attacked. But the wound in his leg had made him slow and clumsy. Chris had tackled Karl, and would have finished him with his knife, if Stu had not stepped between them. Stu realised that Karl was worth more to them alive. They quickly searched Karl's body, and retrieved a walkie-talkie, torch and cigarette lighter. Chris located both of the men's' rifles. Then they moved across the river and returned to the cave, dragging Karl between them.

But the cave was deserted. Abe was missing.

"He can't have gone," Stu said, "he can't walk. Check the pit and the camouflage at the front of the passage."

"They're in tact," Chris said re-entering the cave.

Stu saw the spears standing against the cave wall just as they had left them. The wooden water bowl was empty. There were no signs of a struggle. No evidence that the cave had been compromised.

"He left for some reason," Stu said.

"No," Chris said, "it doesn't..."

"Water," Stu offered, "his bowl was empty. We left him longer than we planned."

Stu rubbed his forehead. He felt dizzy. He needed sleep. But finding Abe was critical.

"No. It..."

"Yes," Stu said, "it makes sense. I'm going to look for him."

Defying his fatigue, Stu took one of the rifles and left the cave. He would not leave Abe out there alone.

Chapter 27

Morning inside the cave.

Stu was standing at the mouth of the cave, tinkering with the walkie-talkie they had taken last night. Chris was examining the rifles. One was a .30 calibre and the other a .22 calibre. Familiar with guns from his country upbringing, Chris worked their loading mechanisms, and sighted down each barrel. He had emptied the bullets and lined them up on the ground. There were six in all; three for each rifle.

Karl was sitting against the cave wall with his arms and ankles bound. He looked different in the daylight; old and thin, but strong. Karl's left eye was swollen where Chris had punched him last night. There was a tear in his pants, and a blood stain over his right thigh where Stu had speared him. But he had not complained about his wounds. In fact, Stu mused, the bloke, had not spoken to them at all.

Stu tried to focus his thoughts. He had searched for an hour last night without finding Abe. Abe's disappearance concerned him.

Stu presently handed Chris the walkie-talkie. "See if you can make it work. I want to talk to him."

Chris left the cave with the walkie-talkie.

Stu crouched in front of Karl and said: "I'm going to remove the sock from your mouth. You scream, I will break your jaw, and my friend, the psycho, that's what we call him, will cut you up."

"Tell us your name," Stu demanded.

"Karl."

"Is Tatani planning to leave?"

Karl shook his head.

"Why not?"

"He will kill you all. That was his plan. That remains his plan."

Chris called from outside: "And what if we kill you? Will that make him leave?"

Stu grabbed Karl by the hair, forcing him to look at him. "Why did you leave your camp last night?"

"Diamonds," Karl said.

"What diamonds?"

"The diamonds you stole from him."

Stu attempted to make sense of the information. Stu knew that he could not trust all that the man said. The man would tell him things, but only if the information did not compromise Tatani. Chris appeared suddenly, and rammed the man's head against the cave wall.

"You're talking shit. I'll kill you!"

The point of Chris' knife drew a spot of blood from Karl's throat. Stu pulled Chris back.

"No Chris. Let him speak."

Chris withdrew outside and continued experimenting with the channels on the walkie-talkie. Stu focused on Karl.

"We gave the diamonds to Tatani already. We took them, but we gave them back to him."

"You gave him fakes."

"Fakes?"

"We went to find your friend last night," Karl said, "when he surrendered to us he said he had the diamonds."

It suddenly made sense. Last night the men had been searching for Deano's body to reclaim their diamonds. But why had Deano kept the diamonds? He was certainly mad enough.

"Lara. The girl Tatani has. Where is she?

"Only Tatani knows."

"Bullshit. Where is she? I swear I will kill you if I have to."

"Killing me will not help you."

Stu rammed Karl's head into the wall.

"True, but beating the shit out of you might."

"Tatani hid her some place with a minder," Karl said matter of factly, "the minder will feed her every day for three weeks," Karl said, "after that he stops. Tatani's agreement with you was real."

"Agreement? We have no agreement!" Stu yelled, "we didn't agree to this. And I swear if any one of you touches Lara I will..."

Chris interrupted, calling from outside the cave.

"Hey! I got voices. Other voices, on the radio!"

Stu shoved the sock into Karl's mouth, and joined Chris at the entrance to the cave.

"Listen."

Chris held the radio out as if it was a sacred idol. The sounds were mostly static, but beneath the distortion, were distant voices.

"Radio's got many frequencies," Chris explained, "I was scrolling through them when I heard these voices."

"Can they hear us?" Stu snatched the radio from Chris, "how do we talk on this thing?"

Stu turned the radio over frantically in his hands. The voices were there now but for how long. He pressed the button on the side, silence, released the button, the static and voices returned. He pressed the button again and spoke.

"Hello – hello, can you hear me? Hello?"

Stu released the button, and the very faint voices of two people engaged in conversation, returned.

" _szhh... great choices... szhh... shit man... szhh... Friday night."_

" _szhh... damn straight Macca... szhh... Macca."_

One of the men had dropped a name and Stu seized on it.

"Hey – Macca – can you hear us. Macca – please – can you hear us?"

" _szhh... fine piece of... szhh... szhh... very tidy."_

The men continued their distant conversation oblivious to Stu's plea.

"Can't hear us. Shit."

"Try another frequency," Chris said, "there might be other people."

Stu twisted the knob on the face of the radio and abruptly the voices were replaced by static. He continued to troll through the frequencies until a new voice leapt at them. A woman, her voice less distorted, sounding closer. She was talking about work in a bar. Stu tried to contact her.

"Hey – hey, girl – can you hear us?"

But the girl's voice returned, ignorant of Stu's call, talking about wine and roses.

"Hell," Stu scrolled through the remaining frequencies. He hit on numerous conversations, and attempted to break into each, but received no response. Suddenly Chris took the radio, entered the cave, and pressed his knife to Karl's neck.

"The radio is broken. You better make it work."

Karl edged back against the cave wall. Chris followed him with the knife, its point never parting from his throat. He snatched the sock out of Karl's mouth.

"Tell me!" Chris shouted, "or I will kill you!"

"It won't work," Karl said.

"We know that," Chris lifted Karl's chin with the knife, "fix it."

Karl shook his head, and said: "I can't. That is the way it is. You hear further than you can send."

"That's bullshit. You're lying."

Chris jammed the radio button in and out. Silence – static – silence – static. His behaviour became increasingly unhinged.

"Make it work," Chris yelled, "make it..."

Abruptly the static on the radio stopped. There was a moment of silence and then a familiar voice emerged.

"Well hello. Guess what? They can't hear you. But I can. Let's talk."

Chapter 28

Karl shouted: "Tatani . A cave. A cave..."

Chris punched him in the head, and shoved the sock back into his mouth.

"He didn't hear you," Chris said, "the button wasn't in."

Chris and Stu stared at the radio. They were surprised by this development, and how to proceed was a mystery. Tatani's voice was coaxing

"Come on now. Don't be shy. You were full of talk a minute ago. Talk to me. You're hungry. I can give you food."

Chris lost it. He pressed the talk button and yelled.

"You piece of shit, bastard. We're going to kill you. Stab you in the neck. We're going to kill you and every other bastard down there. You..."

Chris' rage became so overpowering that he could not speak. He released the talk button and there was a rush of static, then laughter.

"Well, that was not quite the greeting I anticipated. But it's a start. It seems you are still very much alive. Let's talk about what's important. You know what I want. You have them, yes?"

Stu took the radio from Chris. Chris was too volatile, and liable to screw things up. Stu considered what Tatani had said, together with the information he had learned from Karl.

He wants the diamonds. But does he have Abe? No. If he did he would be using Abe now. And Lara? Where is she?

"Yes we have them," Stu said.

"Ah, you have elected a speaker. One more in control than the last. Let me guess. The earlier speaker is also the one who has, how shall we say, been doing most of the terrorising. And ah, before I forget, I have a Pitbull here who would like his knife back."

Stu would not be distracted.

"And we will return his knife to him, buried in his neck. After we have used it on your man here."

Tatani's voice returned.

"It seems the anger is contagious. But we digress. The diamonds and my man, I want both back. You will give them to me."

"Lara. Where is she?"

Tatani laughed.

"Lara, is that her name, she wouldn't tell us. She's alive. But as good as dead. Unless you co-operate. My diamonds. I want them back."

The news about Lara was positive. She was alive. Somewhere. Stu forced himself to focus. Tatani had been pursuing them from a distance, but now everything was suddenly personal. But Stu would not be swayed by Tatani. Instead, he would make Tatani succumb to them.

"If you let us out."

When Tatani's voice returned it sounded strained.

"You provide me the diamonds and my man, and we will let you walk. We will give you directions to the nearest town and where to find your girlfriend. You have my word that we will not follow you."

"Your word is worth shit. We want a helicopter," Stu said.

Down on the river Tatani's anger was building. The savages were manipulating the situation. The savage who was making most of the demands seemed surprisingly focused. Tatani had expected the time in the bush would have weakened the kid's resolve. The other men were gathered close, and he disliked their attention.

Earlier, by chance, scanning the frequencies of his radio, one of the men had discovered the prey trying to raise help. Tatani had then taken charge of what should have been a simple exercise of coercion. Just get the savages to give him the diamonds, and then kill them as planned. But with the savages digging in and making demands, it was getting complicated.

They have the diamonds. But they also have Karl. Any other man, Tatani might be inclined to sacrifice, but not Karl. Talking to the prey like this appalled Tatani. He wanted to see them impaled on stakes. One of them had just had the balls to request a chopper. Tatani spoke slowly into the radio, controlling his anger.

"A chopper? Well now that's some request. You got to show me something first. Show me the diamonds. Then we can all get out together, and leave this behind us."

"Screw you. A chopper. Now. Or we kill your friend. Same as we did your other men."

Sweat dampened the back of Tatani's neck as he fought to remain in control.

"We got to give each other a little before we both get what we want. I've got to see something."

A wash of static and then the first savage returned; the volatile one.

"Screw you, you piece of shit. I'm gonna kill you. Put a spear in your neck. Son of a bitch... watch... bleed and... own knife..."

There were the sounds of a struggle, static, and then the other voice, breathless but calm.

"We want a helicopter. You will organise it for us."

The savages were clearly out of their depth. They were fighting each other. Aroused by the obscenities, the Pitbull stood beside Tatani. He glared at the radio as if he might be able to get at the prey through it.

"We give them nothing," he said.

Tatani nodded, but the situation was more complex than that. Everything was black and white to the Pitbull. The Pitbull did not see that the prey had assumed a position of power. They had the diamonds and Karl. And there was something about the kid doing most of the talking. He seemed tough and surprisingly controlled.

When we find those bastards I will take that one out myself, slowly.

"Tell us where you are," he said, "how do we know where to send the chopper to?"

"We'll tell you when we hear it coming."

Tatani looked at the river, sunlight flared off its surface, hurting his eyes. For all their tough talk, his opponents were amateurs. Tatani would have preferred to be dealing with a professional. Someone more adept, but someone whose behaviour he could predict and plan against.

"You ask for these things, but you forget that you can not move. I am in control. I have your girl at my disposal. One of you is injured. You cannot get out. And you cannot hide forever. Now show me what I want, and then we get you what you want."

"A chopper. And then we give you your diamonds and..."

Tatani was suddenly distracted by shouting. He saw two of his men wading across the stream. On the opposite bank, one of the savages, the injured one, was climbing frantically up the slope.

Abe heard voices and ran. He caught his foot on a tree root and fell. He righted himself, freed his foot, kept moving. The slope was steep, and with his damaged leg he was forced to crawl.

He should have remained where he was on the river bank. The trees would have covered him until dark, and then he could have moved safely back to the cave. But the infection had made him delirious. He had not been thinking straight when he broke his cover.

The cliff was still forty metres away at the top of the slope. He realised he could not make the cave so he started across the slope, refusing to expose the others.

Abe moved several metres further before two men brought him down. They fell together, rolling down the hill. And then the men were standing over him, kicking and punching him. Abe swung back but a man jabbed him in the head with the stock of his rifle, and the big man lay still.

The two men dragged Abe down the slope.

Tatani assessed the mess of bones and flesh at his feet. The time in the bush had taken its toll.

Naked except for the cut off remains of his jeans, the savage's skin had been burnt dark brown; his arms and chest were covered in blistered sores. Dirt clung to him like a second skin. Tatani recognised him as the giant that they had taken extra care with at the farm.

And then there was his leg.

The wound was a long deep gash. The kid had tied a bit of fabric around it as a make-shift bandage, but the fabric had fallen away. The insides of the wound were a black and red mess of dried blood and dirt. The surrounding skin was overrun by white and yellow mucus, like fungi growing on the moist side of a log. The kid's leg, from ankle to thigh, was bright red and swollen. The veins were inflamed blue wires beneath his skin. Tatani prodded the edge of the wound with a stick, and a jet of white pus shot out from under the skin.

It was clear now why the savages had stopped moving; this one could not walk by himself, and he was too big for the others to carry.

Capturing the kid was a tremendous prize. When the kid regained consciousness Tatani would make him tell him where the others were hiding. And if he refused, Tatani would use him against the others. Tatani could offer a chopper to take him to a hospital. And, if the savages did not play the game, then this kid would experience unimaginable pain.

Tatani spoke into the radio again.

"Shall we talk?"

Leroy recognised Frank. He was the big son of a bitch that had waited outside when he had met Tatani at Kinsella's to set up the deal with the diamonds. Finding Frank had been easy with Maurice's information.

Maurice had been soft. Nursing a broken nose, and faced with the threat of further violence, Maurice had become very talkative. Maurice had explained that Tatani and most of his crew were out of town. Leroy had known this already, he knew a lot about the comings and goings of Tatani's circle, but frustratingly very little about the girl Volker wanted. But Maurice had filled the gap. Maurice did not know where to find the girl but had told Leroy that Frank, one of Tatani's hired muscle men was still in town. The news had sparked Leroy's interest, and with a gun pressed under his chin, Maurice had divulged several of Frank's favourite haunts around town. Using Maurice's information, Leroy had located Frank very quickly, and began tracking his movements.

Leroy was presently following Frank from a distance as he wove between the pedestrians on Albert Street. Leroy had expected that Frank, if he was minding the girl, would lead him some place remote, but Frank was heading into the south end of the central business district. The area was lined with office buildings and cafes.

Leroy watched as Frank stopped at an unmarked door, and set the box he was carrying on the ground. Leroy took an outdoor seat in a café three doors down. He could see that Frank's box contained several water bottles and other grocery items.

"Feeding your little pet," Leroy muttered.

Frank unlocked the door and took the box inside.

Lara had no way to tell time. There was no night and day. It was always bright because she was too afraid to turn off the light. She feared she might never be able to turn it back on, and she could not endure the darkness.

She believed what Frank had said. That Stu and the others were being hunted in the bush. It frightened her. But it also gave her hope. Stu may still be alive, and if he was, he would come to get her out.

But what if he was dead?

She suppressed the thought, but knew that she had to get herself out. She could not rely on Stu or anyone else coming.

She sat against the wall wearing the dress Frank had given her. He told her she must wear it every time he visited. She felt self-conscious wearing the dress. It was not the dress, but what it symbolised, that made her uncomfortable. Frank intended to see beneath it. But she wore it because it would get her more information. And the last few times that Frank had come he had spoken more to her. She needed to appease Frank because defying him would anger him. Compliance may extend her life; keep her from ending up like the girls in his photo album.

Strangely, she didn't hear his footsteps this time, just the key in the lock, and then Frank was standing in the doorway.

"Very nice," he said, placing his box of supplies beside the door and assessing her. Lara wanted to cover herself with her arms, but she maintained an engaging stance.

"The dress suits you."

"I know," Lara said, "thank you. Would you like to talk?"

Lara indicated the wall beside her.

Frank looked confused, unsure of why he should be talking to her, but nodded. They sat side by side, several metres apart. Frank watched her; the weight of his gaze almost tangible.

"Are my friends still alive?" Lara asked.

Frank nodded. "Things are taking longer than planned. My boss has many complications at the moment."

"Will he kill them?"

"Yes."

Frank edged closer to her. Lara held her position.

"Why do you do this?" Lara asked.

"Do what?"

"Hurt people."

Frank paused, his face tightening, as if the question had ruined his plans.

"What else would I do?" he said.

"Anything else. Sell cars. Work in a café. Anything."

Frank had not expected to be engaged in this kind of a conversation. But the girl seemed to be warming to him. Maybe she would submit willingly to him, without him having to smack her around. That would be a real prize.

"I wouldn't fit in."

"Complications. What complications?"

"Huh?"

"You said your boss had many complications, what are they?"

Frank did not respond immediately, but decided the girl was going to die anyway, so the information would not hurt.

"Your friend's are eluding him in the bush. And out here, in town, someone's moving in on him."

"Who?"

"Some bastard named Volker."

Lara was struck by the name.

"I know him," she said.

Frank laughed. "Bullshit."

"No. I do. I mean I have seen him."

Lara told him how she had followed Deano to the jewellery store. How the man who had shot the owner had said his name was Volker. Frank listened with growing interest. He did not know all the facts of what had happened that afternoon, but it was a compelling story.

"If you are shitting me..."

"It's the truth."

"I will pass on your story," Frank said.

He crept toward her. Lara read his intentions, but did not move. He stood with his camera.

"I want you to sit on the toilet."

Lara shook her head. "No please. No."

"I said I want you on the toilet. Do it. Now."

Fear flooded her as she moved to the toilet. She drew her panties down and then sat on the toilet, holding the dress tight around her thighs. He clicked away with his camera.

Lara drew herself into a tight ball, covering herself up. Indignation and anger flooded through her. She wanted to attack him. Kill him. But she knew it would be futile. She blocked out the glare of his flash, and in time the pulsing light stopped.

"So beautiful," he muttered, stroking her cheek, "so smooth."

She twisted her face away from his touch.

"Do you remember the photos I showed you? Of my other friends," he said, "next time I visit we're going to look at them together. And then you will meet them."

Then he was gone.

Lara stood, heart thumping, scouring the room for the hundredth time for any way out, or any kind of weapon. She paced the enclosed space in desperation, re-examining every inch of wall, and floor and ceiling. Realising the futility of her search, she battered the walls with her fists until her knuckles were cut and bleeding and she shouted in despair.

Stu sat inside the cave, trying to make sense of what had happened. His confusion turned to anger. Things had been in order for a short period. They had had power over Tatani, holding one of his men, and pretending to have the diamonds. But with Tatani capturing Abe, the balance had shifted again.

Tatani's voice sounded from the radio.

"Shall we talk?"

Stu stared at the radio, considering his options.

"Your friend is still alive, just," Tatani said, "one hell of a gash on him. It's rancid with infection."

Tatani lowered the walkie talkie and waited.

"Are they listening?" Simon asked.

Tatani raised the radio again.

"He does not have to stay like this. We can ease his pain. We have a first aid kit," Tatani's voice was melodious, congenial, coaxing, "we could get him flown out of here. We can all get out of here."

"Bullshit," Simon said, "we don't let them out."

Tatani held up his hand for silence, and glanced at the wounded kid at his feet.

"My diamonds and my man," he continued, "bring them to me. And I will help your friend, and let you all go. What do you say?"

Silence. Tatani breathed deeply. The savages were stronger than he had anticipated. But they would break. Everyone broke eventually. He applied some pressure.

"Your friend is unconscious. That should protect him for now but not when he wakes. My friend here, the Pitbull, likes pain. He is already talking about which part of your friend he might start on with a knife. The wound is his preferred option. If you do not bring me the diamonds, you had better pray that your friend remains unconscious. For when he comes to he will experience pain like nothing he has felt before."

"We want our mate back."

Tatani smiled. They had nibbled at the bait.

"Then bring me what I want."

Tatani stared at the radio, waiting, but there was no response. Never mind, he thought. The savages understood his demands.

"Alright," Tatani said addressing his men, "we got ourselves some leverage. We just got to wait till he comes to. But until then we search. Up there."

He pointed to the upper reaches of the southern slope.

"This one was running for some place," he said, "come on, let's end this together, now."

Tatani followed his men across the river. As he searched up the slope his mind turned for some reason to the girl Frank was minding for him on the outside. It had been twenty days now since he had put her under Frank's watch; the timeline for keeping her alive had been twenty-one. And Frank was a robot. A sick and inhuman robot that would not deviate from the plan. Tatani had the power to extend the girl's life. He could call Frank and change the rules. But Tatani determined that it was better that the girl was eliminated the same as the savages they were hunting in the bush. So come day 21, Frank would switch the girl off, just as easily as if he was switching off the TV.

Chapter 29

Regis Restaurant was full with the lunch crowd. Waiters moved swiftly around the room taking orders, and setting tables. Fresh smells wafted out of the kitchen. Raven sat alone at a table by the window. It was warm outside, and the South Bank boardwalk, several stories below, was crowded with people. It was Raven's sixth visit to Regis, and he knew the menu by heart. He had ordered the rack of lamb with Moroccan sautéed potatoes, and he sat pretending to read a recent edition of Inside Sport, while carefully watching his target.

Jack Kandy was at his preferred table. His minders sat at the table behind. Kandy was dressed in a black suit and white shirt, with the collar open at his chest. He was alone. In ten minutes his blonde mistress would arrive. But before that, he would take his customary nervous leak. Raven had seen the sequence before.

Raven wore dress pants and a loose fitting shirt. He wanted to be able to move without restriction. He had a handgun holstered under his left armpit.

A waiter arrived at Kandy's table, took his order and moved away. Kandy checked his watch and then climbed out of his chair, and started for the door leading to the internal corridor. His minders did not trail him. Raven got up, folded his napkin on the table, and followed.

Raven entered the toilet. Kandy was alone at the trough looking at the ceiling. Raven moved to the basin mirror, spat into the sink, and assessed his appearance while using the reflection to check that the three toilet stalls were empty. Then he pulled his gun and moved up behind Kandy.

Raven shoved Kandy face first into the wall. In the middle of pissing, Kandy had no time to brace for the blow, and he recoiled off the wall, blood spilling from his nose, and piss dribbling down his pants.

Raven pressed the gun close to Kandy's face.

"What the fu..."

"Don't talk," Raven said as he dragged Kandy toward the door. Raven stuck his head out into the corridor; empty. He shoved Kandy toward the fire escape. Once outside on the metal platform, Raven punched Kandy in the stomach and kneed him in the face as he doubled over. Kandy fell against the metal barricade.

Raven shoved the gun against Kandy's throat. Time was paramount. Kandy's minders would be alarmed when he did not return, and the fire escape, although four stories up, was a public place.

"The blow up in the Docklands. You were behind it."

Kandy spat blood into his hand, and wiped it on his pants.

"Who are you?"

Raven whacked his gun into Kandy's head.

"Don't screw with me. I will kill you. Tell me what I want to know."

"Screw you."

Raven battered Kandy's head again.

"You were involved. Your lackey's aren't as tongue tied as you. They told me things. Now, who from Tatani's side gave you your information? Was it Maurice?"

Kandy's head rolled back on his shoulders.

"Never heard of him."

Raven head-butted Kandy, reducing his nose to mush.

"Things get told around the place," Kandy moaned.

Raven tugged Kandy back by the hair.

"What did you hear and from who?"

"Volker set it up. I never met him. But I spoke to his little shit of a spokesman. But Volker set it up. Volker is far bigger than Tatani. Volker is taking over."

Raven digested the information without emotion.

"How did he know?"

Kandy managed a smirk.

"One of Tatani's crossed sides. He told us everything we needed to know."

"Give me a name."

Kandy laughed, blood splattering his shirt front.

Raven did not have time for Kandy's weak bravado. He shoved him up against the metal barricade, and with the gun under Kandy's chin, he hoisted Kandy half over the bar.

"A name, give it to me – now."

Kandy said: "I got a photo. I needed a visual so I approached the right man."

Raven held Kandy out over the barricade. "Where is the photo?"

"Wallet, right pocket."

Raven reached into the pocket of Kandy's pants and located a wallet. And in the exact same instant, Kandy reached down to his right ankle and pulled a blade, swiping at Raven's face. Raven drew back, shoving Kandy away in the same motion. The blade missed Raven's face by centimetres, and Kandy shrieked as he fell over the edge. There was a long silence, and then a thud, breaking glass and an alarm, as Kandy landed on the roof of a car below.

Raven pocketed Kandy's wallet and his gun. Then he straightened his shirt, spat over the railing, and re-entered the building. He passed one of Kandy's minders in the corridor. The minder continued on to the toilets as Raven moved quickly through the restaurant. He left fifty dollars on his table and took the elevator to the ground floor.

It was chaos on the footpath. Women were screaming and people stopped to point at Kandy's body splayed out on the bonnet of a car.

"What happened?" Raven asked one of the onlookers.

"Bloke jumped."

"It happens," Raven muttered.

Only when he was several blocks away did Raven search Kandy's wallet. Lots of cash, credits cards, license, but no photo.

"Crafty bastard. But the trail remains warm. Leroy, Volker's spokesman. Let's see what he has to say."

It was late afternoon inside the cave. Stu had last spoken to Tatani in the morning, but it seemed like days ago. He was weary and hungry. Abe's capture occupied his mind.

Stu had spent the day watching the men search the mountain. By running up the hill, Abe had given the men a hint as to their location. And during the afternoon, one of the men had approached the cave, but he had passed the camouflaged entry to the passage without noticing it. And for the remainder of the day the men had searched further west, before returning to their camp.

Stu interrogated Karl again, but the man had refused to provide any useful information. It appeared that he genuinely did not know where Lara was. And when asked about how far they were from civilisation he said that the only way out of the place was by helicopter.

Chris had proposed sneaking down, and taking the men out with a rifle. But Stu had dismissed the scheme. Chris might shoot one of the men, but what then? The remaining men would make him a target.

Stu had considered calling Tatani and offering himself for Abe. Abe was injured and close to death, at least Stu might last longer with Tatani. But Chris had made Stu see the absurdity of the plan. Tatani would merely make both of them targets. Even if Tatani let Abe go he was too injured to get anywhere. At least Chris and Stu were fit and capable of resisting.

The radio was on the ground in front of Stu. The volume was down, but he could hear the hiss of static.

"Abe is going to talk," Chris said, "they will make him."

Stu knew Chris was right.

"He might talk," Stu said, "but he has been delirious for days. He won't remember how to locate the cave. And we've got two things in our favour. We have him," Stu nodded at Karl, "and Tatani reckons we've got his diamonds."

"No," Chris said, "Abe will tell them something. And soon enough Tatani will realise we have got shit and then..."

"No," Stu interrupted, "he can't work it out unless we tell him. Abe will keep saying he doesn't know about the diamonds, because it's the truth. And unless Tatani finds them some place else, he won't know any different. Those bastards think that they can hunt us. Torture us, and pick us off one by one. But that is bullshit. We've taken out two of them. We've injured another, and we've got that bastard tied up in our cave."

Stu was pacing the cave now with his spears. In his mind he saw Tatani lying dead with a spear in him. He stopped in front of their prisoner, and lifted Karl's chin with the point of his spear. Karl gazed up at him.

"We will take out everyone of your friends if we have to," Stu said, "we've got a spike pit and spears. And I swear I'll skewer anyone who comes near this place. We are going to get our mate back. And after that I am going to take Tatani down and cut out his heart. Then you will die, and every other bastard down there will die."

Tatani took Frank's call in the mid-afternoon. He expected Frank to report that the girl was no more. That Frank had been unable to help himself, and had finished her off a day early.

"This better be important Frank. I trust the girl is still with you?"

"Yes and yes, Tatani. She is as pure as when she went in. But Tatani, she told me something. Could be bullshit but maybe not."

"What?

"She said she saw Volker. Same day those pricks took the van. She followed one of them to a jewellery store, and saw a bloke knock off the owner. The shooter said his name was Volker before he splattered the poor bastard behind the counter."

Tatani digested the news. Volker, his faceless adversary, had a face it seemed. The girl's story could be bullshit, but it carried some authenticity. Tatani had read about a jeweler getting shot in the papers. If the girl had seen Volker's face, then Volker would have seen hers, and Volker would have his men out looking for her. The girl had just become very hot property. And she just might be the bait to lure the savages he was hunting out of the hills.

"Alright Frank. You're moving her. I'm going to give you an address. You arrive there with the girl at six am, two days from now. Transport her and drop her. Nothing more."

Tatani gave Frank Jordie's address. If Volker was searching for the girl, Tatani wanted to keep her close.

Chapter 30

Abe came too just after dark. Tatani was washing his face in the stream when one of his men alerted him. Abe was positioned against a tree with his legs bound.

"So you are alive," Tatani said.

Abe's breath came in shallow gasps that barely stirred his chest.

"Pitbull," Tatani said, "get prepared."

The Pitbull got several metal tent pegs from his pack. He set them deep in the fire coals. Then he looped a length of cord around Abe's chest, securing him to the tree.

"Start praying," he whispered in Abe's ear.

"Your name?" Tatani demanded.

Abe did not respond and Tatani slapped him across the face.

"Tell me your name."

Abe opened his eyes.

"Abe."

Tatani smiled.

"You're a big son of a bitch aren't you Abe? But you're not so strong right now. What happened to your leg? Did one of your friends get hungry?"

Abe was silent.

"I have medicine," Tatani continued, "I could make you better."

"Ple..."

"Was that please?" Tatani cocked his ear, "that word doesn't work around here. I want co-operation. Where are your friends hiding?"

Abe shook his head.

"Why protect them?" Tatani said, "they would not protect you. Tell me and I will make your leg better."

Abe waved in the direction of the southern slope.

"Be specific," Tatani demanded.

Abe's chin dropped to his chest. Tatani yanked his head up by the hair.

"Tell me."

Abe pointed across the river again. Tatani punched him in the face.

"My friend will burn you if you do not co-operate."

"...at way... at way."

Tatani struck Abe in the face, and walked away. He got his radio. The injured kid did not care for his own health. Maybe his friends might care for him more.

"We should talk," Tatani said.

The response was instantaneous.

"A helicopter."

"My diamonds and my man," Tatani said, "bring them to me. Or I will punish your friend."

"We want a helicopter. Then you get your diamonds."

All at once Tatani's frustrations combined and Abe became an outlet for his rage.

"Cut him Pitbull."

Tatani placed his walkie-talkie close to Abe's face as the Pitbull went to work.

The Pitbull grasped Abe's arm, and cut him from the shoulder to the elbow. The blade sliced through the skin like fabric. Abe screamed in agony. He lashed out with his bound legs, but the motion only intensified the pain of his infection. The Pitbull had done this many times before. He took Abe to breaking point, and kept him there, without him losing consciousness.

The Pitbull made to start on Abe's other arm, but Tatani waved him back.

"Not yet. Let's see if this has stirred his friends."

Tatani spoke into the radio.

"The Pitbull has ripped your friend's arm open. Please don't make him do it again. My diamonds?"

"Release him. Then you get your diamonds."

Tatani mashed the radio against his forehead.

"Pitbull," Tatani said, the radio button depressed so the savages could hear, "his other arm."

This time Abe knew what was coming and he screamed before the knife touched his skin.

The blood in Stu's veins was like ice, and he fought to hold his nerve as Abe's screams poured out of the radio, and in a morbid echo, from the valley below. Chris was losing control as he stood with his hands pressed flat against the cave wall, kicking it with his bare feet.

Stu wanted to throw the radio, to smash it, anything to make the sounds stop. He had to make Tatani stop. But there was nothing to do. If they gave themselves up, Tatani would kill them. Tatani wanted the diamonds that they did not have.

"Say something. Do something," Chris shouted.

Stu ignored him. The pressure on Stu was profound. No one, not Abe or James or Chris or Deano could have done what he was doing now. But Stu was holding the radio so that made him responsible for what was happening to Abe. The others would have cracked, lost it and done something stupid. But Stu blocked out the madness around him and searched for the right thing to do.

"Say something. Anything," Chris implored, "make him stop. Or else I am going down there to shoot them now. I do not care."

Stu considered the thought. To kill the men now was right. But it was suicide. There had to be another way. Tatani's voice interrupted Stu's thoughts.

"Where are they hiding? Why protect them. They have abandoned you."

Stu realised that Tatani was trying to extract their location from Abe.

"Alright. You stupid son of a bitch."

There was a slapping sound. Tatani's tone changed as he addressed them in the cave.

"Your friend will not talk to me. But he will in time. The Pitbull has heated tent pegs in the fire. Don't make me use them. Bring the diamonds to me."

A minute passed and then Tatani's voice returned.

"Pitbull put one of the pegs in his wound."

A moment later Abe was screaming. Chris wrestled the radio from Stu, and approached Karl with the knife.

The Pitbull gritted his teeth in ecstasy as he plunged the glowing tent peg deep into Abe's wound. There was a hiss as the hot metal vaporised the leaking liquids. The crackle and sizzle of burning flesh. Abe screamed. His entire body shuddered as if he were being electrocuted. The skin of Abe's leg bulged over the foreign object. Smoke crept out of the wound.

Tatani pulled the Pitbull back. "Enough. We need him alive."

The Pitbull returned the tent peg to the fire. Abe was barely conscious, his head swaying on his shoulders. Tatani spoke into his radio.

"My diamonds. Bring them to me."

Tatani was met with a torrent of obscenities.

"... prick. Bastard. Son of a bitch. We have your friend. And this is the sound he makes when I cut him."

Inside the cave Chris' knife made a straight rip down Karl's forearm. Karl groaned and fell on to his side to get away from the blade. Chris sat him upright, and held him stable with his knees. Chris kept cutting, and held the radio close to Karl's face. Karl fought hard against the pain but cried out as the blade sliced him open.

Stu stood back watching in silent awe. After what they had endured in the bush the violence seemed natural. And what Chris was doing served a purpose; to help Abe, and that made it right.

Chris drew the knife away. Blood poured from the wound in Karl's arm.

Chris spoke into the radio: "Tatani you bastard. I swear to hell and everything that I will kill this son of a bitch."

Tatani paced. Perplexed. Enraged.

The Pitbull looked up from the fire where he was tending his tent pegs.

"Screw them. Let's make this one talk."

"But he has nothing to tell us," one of the men said.

The Pitbull pulled a peg from the fire and turned on the man that had spoken. "And you believe him? We ought to use this on you."

"Pitbull," Simon said, "take to this piece of shit again. He will break. He will tell us where his friends are."

Tatani held up his hand for silence. He was torn. To give in to the savages would be a sign of weakness. But he could not allow Karl to be tortured. He approached Abe.

"Where are they hiding?" he said, "where are the others?"

But Abe was too far gone. He hardly recognised Tatani's words.

"We will burn your leg again," Tatani said, shaking Abe by the hair, "where are they hiding?"

Abe's silence enraged Tatani, and he raised the radio.

"This can continue until your friend is dead. My diamonds. Bring them to me."

"Screw you."

"Pitbull. Put the peg in his leg again."

The Pitbull did not hesitate. He advanced on Abe with a gleaming tent peg. Abe saw him coming and began screaming. His screams merged with those coming from the radio.

Inside the cave Chris entered a world of demons. He ripped open Karl's shirt, and traced the knife across his chest. To Chris, Karl had ceased being human. He was an animal. The same as any other animal he had slaughtered.

Karl screamed. His face turned bright red, and veins rose like wires across his forehead. Stu watched in crazed wonder as Chris took to their prisoner. The brutality did not disturb Stu, but he sensed the violence was futile. This man was not important. Their battle was with Tatani. They had used the man to get at Tatani, but the plan had failed. Torturing him further would achieve nothing. Chris had tossed his knife aside and had both hands at Karl's throat, strangling him.

Stu pulled Chris away. Chris shoved him out of the way, but Stu held his ground. Chris' eyes were dark, and shifted crazily.

"He is nothing," he spat, "we should kill him."

"No," Stu said, pushing Chris back, "it will not help. No more."

Chris glared at Karl writhing on the ground. "You worthless bag of shit."

And it was then that Stu heard it. Or more, he did not hear it. Silence from the radio that was lying on the ground. There was no static so they were hearing the sounds from Tatani's end.

"They killed Abe," Chris said.

Then Tatani's voice returned.

"Your friend has passed out. The Pitbull gave him many scars but I still do not have my diamonds and you do not have your friend back. A terrible waste. So I suggest we end this violence. I will lay your friend on the riverbank. You can come and get him. He will remain there until you do. Day and night. He will not be fed and he will not be given water."

Stu and Chris went to the rock ledge at the front of the cave. They saw figures moving on the riverbank. When the men vanished in the trees, a shape remained splayed out on the ground close to the waterline.

"Why keep him alive? He is as good as dead?" Simon asked.

"He is bait," Tatani said.

Tatani was standing beneath the trees with Simon. From their position they could see Abe tied up close to the water. He lay on his back, his wrists and ankles secured to tent pegs. Tatani found it remarkable that Abe was still alive, after all that had been done to him.

"The others will not come for him. They are too afraid."

"They were not too afraid to take out three of us already," Tatani countered.

"If they do, then we slaughter the sons of bitches," Simon said.

Chapter 31

Frank had made the journey so often to check on Lara that complacency had dulled his instincts. He was thinking only of the girl, and had no idea what was coming behind him. Frank unlocked the door to the building where Lara was held, and in the next instant he was driven headfirst into the wall beside the internal staircase. He turned, seeing stars and white. Leroy king-hit him in the jaw and Frank went down and didn't move.

Leroy locked the door to the outside. He frisked Frank's jacket and retrieved a set of keys. He pulled his gun and after straightening his clothes, started down the stairs.

When Lara heard Frank with the keys outside her door, she knew that her time was up. But she would not die easily. She stationed herself in the centre of the room as a key clinked in the lock. Her fingers were cut and bleeding, so too the heals of her feet, from kicking and working at the bolts to unfasten the ceramic toilet seat.

The door swung open.

"Well my love, it seems your..."

At the exact moment the man pressed the light switch, Lara jumped and smashed the globe with the toilet seat, plunging the room into darkness. Then she charged at the silhouette stationed at the doorway and swung with all the strength she had. The seat hit something hard and the man groaned and fell. Lara ran for the open door. He clutched at the hem of her skirt, ripping it, as she ran out of the door. She tripped, went down on one knee, got back up and crawled up the stairs.

"Bitch!"

She could hear him on the stairs behind her. She looked up. It was a long thin flight of steps. At the top was a door with a window, sunlight flooding in. The light spurred her on.

Get outside. Someone will help me out there.

She clambered up. But despite her fear she sensed something was not right. The man's voice, it had been different. She could hear him breathing hard behind her, his boots heavy on the steps. She got to the top landing, tripped and crawled. The window was there, five metres away, and light outside. Every muscle, every fibre worked to get her out.

And then a figure stepped in her path. His face was difficult to see with the light behind him. The figure leveled a gun at her. She lunged at him and hit him in the waist, knocking him back. Gunshots cracked. Then she saw the man's gun spinning across the floor and dropping down the open space in the centre of the stairwell.

Lara was swamped by confusion. Two men. Who? Frank and someone else, come to help him torture her.

In the light now, Lara could see that the man she had just crashed into was Frank. But he seemed disinterested in her as he charged into the man that had been behind her on the steps. The two fell together down the steps. She heard them fighting down below, and she ran for the door to the outside.

She reached the door and tried the handle. It didn't turn. Locked.

"No!" she shrieked, "no. No."

There was the sound of a heavy door slamming below, and footsteps coming up the stairs. She saw people walking outside on the other side of the road. She screamed at them.

"Help. Help me. Please."

The people walked on oblivious.

The footsteps were near the top of the stairs now. Lara pounded the glass with her fist. It didn't shatter. She punched it again. And again. And again.

"Please. God. No. Please. Break. Break."

She began kicking it with her bare feet.

And then the man had her.

He held her around the waist and pulled her back from the door. She screamed and kicked. She butted her head into his face. She bit his hand. She gouged his eyes with her finger nails. But he held her tight as he lifted her and spun her around, pinning her to the interior wall.

She saw that it was Frank. His face was a bloodied mess. He was breathing hard. She saw people passing outside the window behind him.

"Hel..."

He clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Shut up. I saved you from that madman. He'd have blown you away."

Delirious, she kicked and kicked but eventually her strength passed. This was the end. After all she had endured she no longer cared. Her body was no longer hers. He would do with it what he wanted. Take her life. It did not matter.

"Stop battering me," Frank said, "that son of a bitch is not dead. I closed him in the basement but I reckon he has a key. He'll work it out, even in the dark. Now normally I'd screw you and do you in. But today is the luckiest day of your life. I passed on your information to my Boss and you suddenly became very important. Priority one that you stay alive. You're getting out. Get up."

Frank hoisted Lara into a standing position. Then he punched her in the mouth. Her legs gave way and she toppled into his arms.

"Can't have you screaming out there can we."

Then Frank kicked the glass out of the front door and stepped outside. He bundled Lara quickly into his car and drove away.

Leroy was in total darkness but he eventually found the key and the lock, and exited the basement. There was no need for caution, the man and the girl would be long gone.

In the light from outside he saw the toilet seat on the ground. He picked it up.

"Belted me with a dunnie seat. Most enterprising."

He tossed it away and started up the stairs. The exercise had been a disaster, but it seemed that Tatani was moving the girl. Now that she was out in the open she would be easy to find. He wiped the blood off his face and stepped out on to the street.

Chapter 32

Stu had tried several times to contact Tatani on the radio, to bargain Karl for Abe, but Tatani had not responded. Without the diamonds Tatani would not negotiate. And with no diamonds to give Tatani, Stu had no leverage.

Stu was racked by guilt. Abe had been tortured. Tatani had cut him and burnt him. Stu felt responsible for it. He had been unable to make Tatani stop. In time the guilt morphed into anger. Everything that was happening was Tatani's fault. And Stu would make him pay.

Earlier in the day, Chris had suggested that they make a daytime raid to get Abe back. Stu had rejected the idea. It was exactly what Tatani wanted them to do. Stu wanted desperately to get Abe back, but he would not allow Chris to play into Tatani's hands.

But they had to do something. They could not leave Abe to die. And Stu could not rely on Chris to reason a way out of the situation. Chris' mind was focused on attack and violence. Stu needed something in between, and in time Stu conjured a scheme. The daytime was dangerous but the night would be different. Stu approached Karl inside the cave.

"Tatani has a radio or a phone, something that can reach a long way. Where is it?"

Night.

"They're not coming," the Pitbull said, "they don't care if their friend dies."

Tatani was concealed in the trees. The Pitbull was crouched beside him chewing on a twig. The men had not searched during the day. Searching further was useless after failing to locate the savages the past three days. And why search when they had the perfect bait tied up on the riverbank? But with darkness descending, Tatani realised that his plan had failed. The savages had rejected his bait.

The savages had tried to contact him earlier; offering Karl in exchange for their friend. Tatani had not responded. He would not negotiate with these savages. Karl was a professional, and he would not expect Tatani to deal with them. And Tatani believed that the kids would not harm Karl. Karl was their only real leverage.

Stunningly, despite the intense heat, Abe was still alive. Tatani could see Abe's chest rising as he breathed.

"Alright. They're not coming out," Tatani said, "we need food. Pitbull, shoot us something to eat."

The Pitbull moved away with his rifle. Tatani approached Abe and knelt beside him.

"You're one hardy son of a bitch," Tatani said, "pity your friends don't give a shit about you."

Uncapping his water bottle Tatani offered Abe a drink. Abe swallowed the water desperately.

"Drink up my friend. You may be worth shit but you're all I've got."

The cheers of the crowd swelled, peaking as the horses thundered past the winning post. Raven felt the vibrations of the pounding hooves through the metal fence rail. The people around Raven screwed up their tickets and focused once more on their drinks. Raven cared little for horses and even less for those who bet on them. But his target enjoyed the pastime. Leroy, Volker's impeccably dressed representative, watched the horses with keen interest.

Leroy was dressed in a dark suit and stood alone twenty metres away. Raven had been close enough to see that Leroy had a black eye, evidence of Leroy having been involved in some brawling. Leroy wore dark sunglasses to conceal the bruising, and sipped wine from a glass. He displayed more than a gambler's interest in the mares and stallions as they paraded past the crowd at the start and conclusion of each race. Raven had been watching him since lunchtime, waiting for the right opportunity to approach him. But the place was too public and Leroy had remained too open.

But a time would present itself. It always did. Raven spat on the grass as the track announcer called out the starters for the next race.

Despite Leroy's apparent sophistication, Raven was not taking him lightly. Raven had him marked as a sharp and instinctive individual. Volker, whoever he was, was a significant player, and he would surround himself with significant others.

At the conclusion of the race meet, Raven followed Leroy out of the course, hanging back and blending with the exiting crowd. Raven watched as Leroy started down a deserted laneway. Leroy moved smoothly in his black suit, oblivious to the danger that lurked behind. Raven did not hesitate, and he moved swiftly up behind his target. In a single fluid motion he pinned Leroy's right arm up behind his back and drove him face first into the window of a parked car. Then he placed the point of his butterfly knife at the side of his captive's neck. Leroy groaned but did not try to escape.

Raven rasped in Leroy's ear. "You answer my questions. You live."

"I would dream of doing nothing else. But tell me, why such a delay in making my acquaintance. You've been watching me all afternoon. If you had approached me earlier maybe we could have talked more civilly over a drink. But please, ask your questions."

Raven would not be baited by Leroy's nonchalance. "Volker. You know him?"

"Know him? I do not. Work for him – I do."

"Who is he?" Raven punctuated his question by spitting on the ground, before levering Leroy's arm higher. Leroy gasped.

"I know him only as Mr Volker. I saw him once. He was in disguise. He does not show his face; to anyone. And your spitting, a revolting habit. And a give away as to your identity. I thought a man in your profession would hide any such signature."

Raven ignored the rebuke. He checked both ends of the alley were empty. He had time. He flipped Leroy around so that they faced each other and kept the knife pressed beneath Leroy's chin.

"You spoke with a man named Maurice."

"Indeed. A nervous individual. Dead now. Someone shot him. But you already know this, yes?"

Raven dismissed the question. "What do you know about a mole on Tatani's side?"

"There is one."

"Have you met him?"

"He deals only with Mr Volker. Mr Volker passes on the information he learns as he feels fit."

"I want to meet Volker."

"Impossible."

Raven shoved Leroy's head back against the car window. Leroy's eyes rolled slightly in their sockets.

"Mr Volker does not do meetings."

"You can call him?"

Leroy nodded.

"Then call him. You tell him that I want to meet him."

Raven pulled Leroy's mobile phone from his pocket.

"Call him."

"As you wish," Leroy muttered.

Raven spat, the discharge landing on Leroy's boot, as Leroy dialed on his mobile. There was a moment's silence and then the trebly sound of a voice.

"Mr Volker. I am sorry to disturb you but I find myself in the unfortunate circumstance of having a knife tucked under my chin by a man who wishes to meet you... no he won't tell me his name but I think he works for Tatani, he may label himself Raven."

Raven was stunned that Leroy should know all of this, but it did not matter. There were sounds on the line. Then Leroy: "As you wish Sir. I will ask him?"

Leroy lowered the phone and addressed Raven. "Tatani is holding a girl. She has recently been moved. Mr Volker would like to know where she is."

Raven shrugged. "I don't know shit about a girl. Ask him who he deals with on Tatani's side."

Leroy raised the phone. "He knows nothing about the girl and I tend to believe him. And he seeks the identity of your contact on Tatani's side – rather confidential I would think."

Raven slammed Leroy back against the car. There was silence as Leroy listened to Volker before he nodded. "Yes Sir."

Leroy hung up and glanced at Raven.

"It seems you must be important. Mr Volker will meet with you. He left it to me to agree a time and place. And as to the identity of Tatani's rat, he did allow me to divulge a certain photo to you. But please may we talk civilly, put away your knife and no more rattling my head against this car."

Raven kept his knife pressed to Leroy's throat. "Show me the photo. Now."

"Unfortunately Mr Raven, the photo is safely kept in my home. But if you would be so kind as to provide me transport. And please, no more spitting on my attire."

Raven shook his head. He did not like the thought of visiting Leroy's home. Leroy and Volker might have exchanged a code for an event like this. But it was a risk that could be managed.

"Alright you little bitch, we're going for a ride."

Chapter 33

Raven called just before dark. Tatani took the call out of earshot of the other men.

"You have information?"

"Yes, Kandy is dead. Fell four stories. Complete accident."

"And?"

"He was involved. He knew more than he told me. Confirmed there was a mole but didn't give me a name or an id."

Tatani lost his nerve.

"Shit. Raven. I pay you to unravel things and..."

"And that is what I have done. I have Leroy, Volker's spokesman here with me. We have a meeting with Volker. And Leroy's about to provide me a photo of your mole."

Tatani's hopes lifted.

"You send me that photo Raven. And when you get close enough to Volker, eliminate him."

"There was something else Tatani. Volker was very interested in a girl you might be keeping. Is there anything I should know?"

The question confirmed what Tatani already knew. Frank had called earlier and explained how Leroy had come looking for the girl. Volker wanted her badly. But Frank had her in transit up to Jordie's.

"That is a separate issue Raven and not one that concerns you. Just get me that photo and deal with Volker."

Tatani hung up and dialed Jermal.

"Brother?"

"There has been trouble. I need you out here. Frank will deliver a girl to Jordie's home at six tomorrow morning. You are to fly her out to me."

"What kind of trouble?" Jermal asked.

"I will explain more when you arrive."

Tatani hung up.

It was several hours after dark when Stu exited the stream on the northern bank. Chris was with him. They were covered in mud and blended with the trees. They were armed; two spears and a rifle each. They had left Karl bound and gagged inside the cave.

They moved up the slope before Chris stopped. He stood perfectly still, sensing the bush, smelling it, hearing it, breathing it, and then, satisfied that they were alone, he led them through the trees.

They were several hundred metres upstream of Tatani's camp and tension tightened Stu's nerves. He understood the danger. To attack Tatani like this was madness. He would be expecting them. It was playing into his hands. But Abe was dying. And Stu and Chris had discussed the scheme at length, challenging it, refining it, until they had a mix of actions that might work.

Chris stopped and pointed with his spear. Through the trees Stu saw the faint glow of a fire. Chris moved to within twenty metres of the fire and stopped. Stu could see the men clearly. He counted them, seven, all accounted for. The men were huddled close around the fire, watching the bush. The remains of an animal lay beside the fire. Stu saw Abe tied up near the river, and it spurred Stu's resolve.

They watched for a period before Stu decided it was time to act. He nudged Chris. They did not exchange any words, as they knew what was to happen. Chris moved away toward Abe, and Stu started up the slope.

Stu's mind was buzzing. All at once he saw the flaws in their plan. It relied on Tatani reacting in a certain way but what if he didn't? What if Tatani didn't fall for their plan and left more men to guard Abe than Chris could handle? Chris had shown Stu how to load and shoot the rifle, but shooting any of the men in the dark, with all the trees, would be difficult. But Stu would not back down. Not after what Abe had endured. And having lived for so long on the cusp of death, the thought of dying meant little to Stu.

Once Stu had climbed high enough he stopped and settled down in the scrub.

He could see the men clearly below. They were talking, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the trees around them.

Then with a deranged cry Stu charged through the trees toward them. He saw the men getting up and he hurled his first spear and then the second shortly after. He saw a man duck and another roll over. He kept screaming as he ran and when he got within ten metres of the camp he fired his rifle at the shapes he saw there, and then veered away and sped back up the slope.

Chris held his position. He was down near the river level with Abe, five metres back in the trees. Tatani had reacted to Stu's attack by ordering his men to go after Stu and directing one to watch over Abe.

The man was standing at the top of the slope his rifle ready. The man looked younger than the other men, an easy target. As Chris watched, the man moved down the slope and crouched beside Abe. Chris heard distant gunshots; Stu had lured the other men away. Chris had to act. Shoot the bastard. Then free Abe and go looking for the phone that Karl had told them about.

Chris burst out of the scrub. The man whirled to face him, rifle swinging around. Chris balanced himself, aimed and fired.

_Click_.

Chris pumped the trigger again and again.

Click – click – click.

The man blinked and swayed on the spot. Then he realised he had been spared and started to raise his rifle. Chris charged, using the stock of his rifle as a battering ram. He caught the man on the jaw and the man dropped, firing his rifle as he fell, the bullet a zing close to Chris' ear. Chris rammed the butt end of his rifle into the man on the ground, once, twice, preparing for a third, but the man was already motionless on the ground, blood creeping out from beneath his hair.

Chris knelt beside Abe. "Big man. It's me, Chris."

Abe moaned but did not open his eyes. Chris cut Abe free of his bindings. Then he swapped his own rifle for the man's.

"Come on," Chris helped Abe up the slope, "we're getting out but first we got to take something with us."

Chris entered the camp. There was little time. The men would have heard the gun shot. Chris looked around. The injured man was there but he was asleep. Packs lay everywhere. Which pack had the phone? Karl had said it was in the pack with a red cross on it. Chris saw the pack and went to it.

He stole a glance to the west. He saw figures and lights in the trees. The men were already returning.

Unable to work the zipper of the pack Chris sliced the front open with his knife. He fumbled through clothing and utensils, but failed to find a phone.

The lights were closer in the trees. Too close.

"Hell."

Chris gave up on finding the phone and lifted Abe up.

"Come on big man."

Chapter 34

Raven drove quickly to his home on the other side of town. He was buzzing as he parked in the underground car park of his apartment building. He had taken the place on a four week lease. He liked to move around. A fixed address made him a target. He did not mind Leroy seeing his home, as after tonight, after he had eliminated Volker, Raven did not intend to return to it.

Earlier, Raven had taken a risk, stopping at Leroy's address on the way home. But Leroy had provided the photo of the mole. The picture had been taken from a distance but Raven recognised the face. And he knew that it would cause significant fallout with Tatani. Raven got his camera phone out and took a picture of the photo Leroy had given him.

"Tatani will be disappointed no doubt," Leroy said, guessing Raven's intentions.

"Shut up."

Raven attached the photo to a text message he sent to Tatani.

Photo of mole provided by Volker's man. Will call later.

Raven got out and spat on the car park floor, and ushered Leroy toward the lifts.

"A very nice abode," Leroy complimented.

Raven shoved him into the lift. On the way up Raven dialed Volker's number.

"Mr Raven."

"Shut up and listen," Raven said, "we meet later tonight. I will tell you where."

The lift opened and Raven pushed Leroy ahead of him down the corridor. Leroy had his hands tied behind his back but was co-operating, leaning toward Raven, to create the illusion that they were two old mates.

"Very crafty Raven," Volker said on the phone, "but I would expect nothing less from Tatani's chief mercenary."

Raven arrived at his room and opened the door.

"Shut up. I will see you..."

Raven switched on the light and froze.

A man was sitting in his lounge chair pointing a gun at him.

"As you wish," Volker's voice came in stereo, through the phone and in person. The man in the chair hung up his phone and placed it in his pocket.

"Mr Volker. How nice to see you," Leroy said.

Chapter 35

Simon came too and felt a sharp jolt of pain in his arms as he tried to move. He was sitting against a tree with his arms tied to the trunk His ankles were bound. The right side of his face was swollen and blue.

"What is this?" Simon said.

Tatani stepped into Simon's line of sight.

"Why?" Tatani's voice was like ice.

The other men had gathered behind Tatani. They watched Simon like a pack of wolves watching an injured deer.

"What?"

"Traitor," Tatani thrust his phone in Simon's face. A picture of Simon filled the screen. The picture Raven had texted him.

"What?" Simon said.

Tatani hissed: "You sold us out. You sold me out. Why?"

Tatani punched Simon in the face, opening up his lip.

"Na – na – no. No." Simon bleated.

"I know it. My man on the outside has been investigating what happened at the docklands," Tatani said, watching Simon's features. He saw guilt in every twitch of his son's face. Tatani breathed deeply, his mind swamped by disbelief, rage, despair. But the picture Raven had sent was clear. The mole. The traitorous disease in Tatani's group was Simon.

The picture had appeared on Tatani's phone as they were returning to the camp after losing the savage in the trees. The news had left Tatani mute with shock. At first he had refused to believe it. There must have been some mistake. But what mistake could there be. Raven was incentivised only to send on the information that he found.

All along Tatani had suspected Tedo or Maurice, but now Tatani saw the error in his judgment. Tedo or Maurice could never be an effective traitor. They were too weak and too dependent on others. They were unable to think and act for themselves. And all the qualities they lacked, Simon possessed. Simon was shrewd, intelligent, and strong. Indeed, it was the very qualities that Tatani had fostered, that Simon had used against him.

And slowly Tatani's mind made sense of what seemed unfathomable. Simon as the traitor began to fit.

Simon had been at the docklands when Tatani's men had been killed. He had been in one of the cars with bullets flying all around him, but he had got out with only a cut arm. Simon had come to Tatani with the idea for the Dockland heist and he had been heavily involved in the planning. He'd planned it all to go wrong.

And just now, when the savages had attacked, Tatani had deployed Simon to keep watch on the kid they had tied up. Simon had been armed and alert to a potential attack, but a single savage had over-powered him. Did Simon know the bastards that they were hunting? Had Simon been working with them when they pulled the heist at the car park and taken his diamonds? Simon had his mobile with him in the bush. Had he been organising things on the outside and erasing his calls?

How long had Simon been plotting against him? Who was he serving on the outside? Volker?

Tatani's belief that Simon would one day take over from him and run their empire, was destroyed. The void of failed hopes was filled by anger.

If any of the other men had been the traitor they would have been dead on the spot. Tatani's life depended on loyalty. Loyalty was the glue that held them all together. The men knew this. Just as they knew that Simon should be eliminated immediately. Tatani felt the pressure of their expectations.

Tatani punched Simon in the face again.

"Why?" Tatani was so close that Simon saw only a single cycloptic eye.

"It – it – it is not me," Simon gasped.

"Bullshit," Tatani thrust his phone in Simon's face, "that is you."

"I would never go against you," Simon said. Simon could not dispute the photo. But he denied what the photo meant.

"Bullshit," Tatani said.

Tatani had his knife out. Simon was his son but he saw only a traitor. A disloyal pig that he should destroy as a warning to the rest of the men. Tatani slashed the knife across Simon's chest. Simon gasped in disbelief. The blow had been too swift to hurt but the searing pain caught up like a deep burning.

"You set us up at the docklands," Tatani said, "you were there. Bullets flying. But you returned with only a scratch on your arm."

Simon shook his head. He glanced down at the rip in his chest. He had seen men treated like this before. Cut and shot and drowned and eaten by pigs. But he had never imagined it happening to himself. Tatani lifted Simon's chin with the point of his knife.

"You helped the savages escape. Let him batter you in the face for show. Are you in this with the bastards we are hunting? The bastards that have my diamonds. Do you know them?"

Simon shook his head and the knife flashed out again. The blade ripped a fresh line across Simon's chest.

"Who are you working for?" Tatani demanded, "Volker? Is it Volker?"

The fury was too much for Tatani to control; his arms and limbs seemed to work independent of his brain. He no longer saw his son. He saw only a traitorous human that was worth nothing.

Simon struggled against his bindings. "I – I – I – know nothing about this. Please. Please. I am with you. I always have been. I don't know Volker."

Tatani leveled his rifle at Simon's face and deranged with anger he fired.

Chapter 36

Raven pressed his gun to Leroy's neck and kept his head concealed behind his captive's body.

How did Leroy and Volker know his address? Bastards had him followed. How many others did Volker have positioned right now watching this place?

"I thought it easier to just pop in," Volker said, "you live with minimal possessions Mr Raven. A unique existence."

Raven did not respond. He knew now that the trip to Leroy's house had been a diversion, to provide Volker time to break into his own apartment.

"Shall we lower these?" Volker asked.

Raven kept his gun pressed to Leroy's neck.

"As you wish," Volker smiled, "you wanted to identify me tonight, didn't you?"

Raven was silent.

"So you could pass on my identity to Tatani," Volker continued, "he is anxious to know who I am. But even more anxious to see me dead."

"You were behind the mess at the docklands. Two of Tatani's men were killed," Raven said.

Volker shrugged. "It happens."

"Why," Raven asked.

"Does there have to be a reason for everything?"

"And Maurice?" Raven asked.

"I just had my men lean on him a little. They told him that while Tatani's off playing bush games he's all alone with no one to protect him. I told him I wanted my shipment of ice, but I knew he couldn't get it because he had no money to pay his suppliers. See, I know the diamonds Tatani has are fakes. I gave him genuine diamonds and somehow he misplaced them and ended up with a pile of fakes. So I gave Maurice the option of finding and returning to me my real diamonds or getting me my shipment. I let Maurice know that one of my men would come for him if he failed. That someone, although you didn't know it, was you, Mr Raven. You were watching Kandy and Maurice. You were watching them in the hope they would lead you to me. And I reckoned that the way Tatani works, Maurice would have no idea who you are. The rest was just a punt on human behaviour. You see, when Maurice got quizzical with Kandy, you did what I thought you'd do. You paid Maurice a visit. But shit, late at night, in Maurice's own apartment. It was perfect. What did that nervous weed do? Did he try and take you out in the dark? Perfect."

Raven's exterior was unchanged but inside he was reeling. Volker had set him up. A door slammed out in the hallway and Raven flinched.

"Might I sit down?" Leroy asked.

Raven jabbed the gun under his chin.

Volker continued: "How do you feel Raven, knowing that I might have this place surrounded? One minder in your bedroom. A couple down in the car park. One watching the foyer. This could be the end for you Raven."

A drop of sweat slid down Raven's back. He saw the light switch within reach to his right.

Off with the lights and then out the door.

"I could have similar reinforcements," Raven replied.

"No Mr Raven. I know you prefer to work alone. A solo mercenary. A very good one I hear. Discreet. Effective. You know, I could pay you more. Much more."

Leroy shifted and Raven held him still. Raven studied Volker's eyes and the thin slip of skin between them.

Get the shot off and get in behind Leroy, let Leroy wear any return shot that Volker might release.

"Would you like to work for me Mr Raven?"

Raven shook his head. "I like to know the men I work with."

"You..."

At that instant Raven saw something pass in Volker's eye. But before he could react Leroy threw his head back, smashing Raven's nose. Raven's silenced gun coughed but the bullet splintered the ceiling. Leroy smashed Raven's hand against the door frame and his gun went spinning across the floor. Raven went for the light switch but stunned by Leroy's head-butt, he misjudged the distance and crashed into the wall. Raven sprawled on to the floor, blood gushing from his forehead. He tried to get up but Volker was on him, his boot pressed against his throat, and two guns, one his own, leveled at his head.

"Lights off and run. A good plan. Difficult to find you in the dark," Volker said.

Leroy appeared beside Volker. He had cut away his bonds with a knife Volker had given him. He accepted a gun that Volker pulled out of a holster beneath his vest.

"Deeply sorry to bump you like that Mr Raven," Leroy said, "after your hospitality this afternoon."

Raven knew his time was up as he stared at the twin gun barrels.

Volker continued. "Unfortunately Mr Raven my employment offer has lapsed. Good bye."

Raven closed his eyes awaiting the bullet, but Leroy's voice interrupted his demise.

"I am sorry Mr Volker. But I have no choice. I suspect you are not wearing a mask tonight. And no one ever lives after seeing you. And I do not wish to die tonight."

Raven opened his eyes and saw Leroy's gun pinned to Volker's head.

"Please forgive me Mr Volker," Leroy continued, "but ours is such a ruthless world. If I don't kill you Mr Volker. Then you kill me."

Raven watched the exchange breathing slowly.

"I expected more of you Leroy," Volker said.

Leroy pulled the trigger but there was only a loud snap. He tried two more times and on the fourth click, Volker swung his own gun around and fired. The bullet took Leroy in the forehead and threw him back against the wall. He slid to the floor his thoughts and memories smeared across the wall.

Before Raven could dislodge the boot from his throat Volker had the gun on him again.

"Leroy was a good man," Volker said, "but predictable. He could not be trusted with a loaded gun. A terrible waste. Both of you."

Volker pulled the trigger. And Raven was no more.

"A terrible waste," Volker repeated.

Then he searched Raven's jacket and pants. He found a wallet and mobile camera phone. He steadied the camera over Raven's bleeding head.

"Smile."

Chapter 37

"Your rifle must have got plugged with water or mud," Stu said.

Chris shook his head and said, "don't know, just didn't fire."

Chris had got Abe back to the cave and together with Stu, they had tended Abe's wounds with water. Abe's arms were cut and his leg was torn and scarred with brown burn marks. Abe was presently sleeping as Stu and Chris exchanged stories of their escapes.

Stu had explained how he had avoided the bullets of the men before losing his pursuers in the shadows. And now Stu was listening to Chris' story.

"You smashed him with your rifle. Is he dead?" Stu asked.

"Don't know," Chris said, "maybe. I tried to find the phone but they were coming back so we got out of there."

Stu had heard enough. Abe was back and Chris had taken a rifle with six bullets; the same calibre as their other rifle. They had reclaimed a position of power.

"We have Abe," Stu said, "Tatani has nothing. We offer Tatani his man and the diamonds in exchange for the chopper."

"They could use the chopper to get us into the open," Chris said.

Stu had thought about this.

"No. We dictate things. We say where the chopper is to land. And we use our prisoner as cover until we're aboard. We want the chopper here tomorrow night. It will be safer in the dark."

The bullet punched a hole in the ground left of Simon as Tatani struggled to regain his balance. The Pitbull had shoved Tatani away. Tatani swung the rifle at the Pitbull but the Pitbull parried the blow with both hands, directing the rifle away from himself and Simon.

The Pitbull said: "Not now. Not like this. There are other ways."

Despite all his flaws the Pitbull realise that Tatani was making a mistake. Simon should not be spared, but they needed to extract all the information they could from him first.

The sound of Tatani's mobile phone message alert distracted him. He glanced at the screen and the name surprised him. Raven never sent text messages. He opened the attachment and the photo left Tatani mute with horror.

Raven was dead. And the message read. "I am coming for you. V".

Volker was asserting himself.

The prey made contact as Tatani was washing his face in the river.

"We want a chopper. Tomorrow night. And you will tell us where the girl is."

"A very brave effort, saving your friend. Let's talk," Tatani said into his radio.

"No more talking. Get us a chopper. We have your diamonds and your man. You have nothing."

Nothing? I have a twelve inch bowie knife I will flay you with. You bastard.

Tatani's battle with this savage on the radio was becoming intensely personal. He longed to get the kid alone and destroy him. But Tatani calmed himself. He returned to the camp and the rest of the men watched him as he spoke on the radio.

"A chopper is not easy to get."

"Bullshit. A chopper tomorrow night. Or we kill this son of a bitch and toss your diamonds into the river."

It appalled Tatani to negotiate with these pigs but the standoff could continue for days. He chose a different tactic.

"Alright," he said, "things have got out of hand. A chopper. Tomorrow. Where shall it land?"

"The chopper comes at nine pm. We will signal it with a torch. The pilot gets out and lays down with his hands flat on the ground. He moves again once we're inside. We will leave half of the diamonds with your man before we take off and leave you the other half when we get to where you are holding Lara. You screw with us, your man dies and your diamonds end up in the river."

"How do I know you won't make off with the diamonds?"

"We don't want them. We only want to get out and get Lara. A chopper tomorrow."

Silence.

"There you have it," Tatani said, addressing his remaining men, "we're leaving. We get our diamonds, we get Karl, and we let the savages go. But we watch them all the way. If they try anything we blow them to pieces."

The men broke into merriment describing how they intended to spend their first night back home.

"Bullshit," the Pitbull said and stormed into the bush.

Tatani watched the Pitbull leave. Tatani understood the Pitbull's disgust. Submitting to the savages was unfathomable. Tatani got his phone out.

Jordie answered: "Tatani?"

"We're coming home. We need you out here tomorrow night at twenty hundred hours. You'll be taking some men out first. Not mine, but the same men you dropped out here – less two."

"You coming out with them Tatani?"

Tatani understood Jordie's apprehension. The last time Jordie had flown out he had seen George take a bullet.

"Yes, but later. You take the men first."

"I don't like it Tatani. Will they be armed?"

Tatani sucked in a breath.

"I do not pay you to like things – I pay you to do things. Bring the chopper out here tomorrow. They need you to fly so you will not be hurt."

Tatani moved into the trees out of earshot of the other men.

"Alright Tatani. Where do I pick them up?"

"Come to the river in box zero five – B."

"Aye – is that all?"

"Not quite," Tatani said, "there is one more thing. You'll have two companions on the outward journey. They will arrive separately at your place prior to the flight."

Tatani hung up and placed another call, and then went looking for the Pitbull.

Tatani found the Pitbull at the river close to the rapids. The Pitbull was studying the opposite mountain and did not acknowledge Tatani.

"Make you sick?" Tatani asked.

"Savages," the Pitbull said vehemently, "we came to hunt them and now we let them go."

Tatani smiled. If only the others shared the Pitbull's intensity. Tatani checked behind to see that they were alone.

"The prey are not leaving," Tatani said.

The Pitbull glared at him. "What?"

"The savages are not leaving," Tatani repeated, "we came to hunt them and we will."

"What about the chopper?" the Pitbull asked.

"To expose them," Tatani explained, "then we get the diamonds. I need the diamonds. Things are turning bad on the outside. We have another battle to fight out there Pitbull."

Tatani pulled his phone out and showed Pitbull the screen. The Pitbull studied the gore on the screen.

"That is the man I had tracking Volker down on the outside. He was a professional. But Volker found him. We finish these savages off," Tatani said to the Pitbull, "and then we find Volker on the outside and teach him some humility."

"Water! Chris – water!"

Stu shook Abe by the shoulder but he did not respond. He forced Abe's eyelids open with his thumbs. Abe's eyes were dim and did not focus.

"He's failing," Stu yelled.

Stu's head spun. Abe had held out this long. They were so close and they were losing him.

Chris put a bowl to Abe's mouth forcing him to drink. Abe's eyes sprung open and he slumped forward gagging. Stu helped him sit back against the cave wall.

"Abe?"

The big man grunted.

"You weren't breathing," Stu said, "you can't do that man. We're getting out. Tonight. We got a chopper coming."

And as Stu studied the wasted features of his friend Stu knew that one way or another it was ending tonight. Abe could hold out no longer.

Chapter 38

The distinctive whump – whump – whump broke the tension inside the cave. Chris hurried to the Lion's Head. He saw a light in the distance that got bigger as he watched. He quickly returned to the cave.

"Chopper's coming," he reported.

Stu was already standing and checking the rifles. His mind was focused on what they planned to do.

"We know the plan," Stu said, "and if it goes to shit we split up and come back here."

"If it goes to shit we kill the sons of bitches," Chris countered.

"Yes," Stu said.

Stu handed Chris one of the rifles. Chris ripped the loading arm back chambering a shell. He checked that the trigger was free of any blockage before setting the safety.

"You got six bullets," Stu said, "and I got three in this one. We got to make them count. Now come on."

They took two spears each. Then Stu picked up a handkerchief that he had tied into a pouch and filled with small rocks. From a distance Tatani would think it was a pouch with his diamonds. Chris carried Abe toward the rear of the cave. Stu cut the cords that bound Karl's ankles and put the barrel of his rifle beneath Karl's chin.

"Try and run, scream, anything, I'll splatter your head everywhere."

"Down."

They buried themselves in the scrub up the slope from the river as the chopper's searchlight swept over them. The engines became a deafening roar, and then the chopper was past them.

"Tatani's not playing it right," Stu said, "he's searching for us."

Stu switched the radio on.

"We will kill your man. Tell the pilot to lose the searchlight."

There was a wash of static and then Tatani's voice, hard to hear over the roar of the chopper.

"He needs the light for navigation."

Stu put the radio close to Karl's mouth and jabbed him with his spear. Karl groaned.

"Put the light out now."

Abruptly the searchlight was extinguished and the chopper became a dim outline, visible only by its blinking red tail light.

"Tell him to stop and hover down there," Stu said into the radio, "until we signal him."

Stu turned the radio off.

Tatani was buzzing. The savages had made their first error. It was not much but he had seized on it.

Hover down there.

The chopper was crossing the river above the rapids.

"I want everyone moving upstream. Now," he ordered.

Stu moved Abe and Karl down the slope to the clearing Chris had described earlier. They stopped in the tall grass beside it. Chris remained in an elevated position up the slope. He was the spotter. He knew how to shoot a rifle, and if things went wrong he would shoot to kill. Chris would only come down once they were all on board the chopper.

Stu played the sequence over again in his mind. It was simple enough. But anything could happen. He looked up the mountain to his left. He had a general idea of Chris' position but could not see him. That was alright. If there was a problem Chris would make himself seen.

Stu spoke close to Abe's ear: "You ready?"

Abe grunted.

"Come when I say."

Stu put his rifle under Karl's chin and muttered in his ear: "You try and run and I will shoot you. Co-operate and you might get out alive."

Stu stepped into the clearing shielding himself with Karl's body, and blinked his flashlight three times.

Tatani saw the blinking light. He had guessed right, it came from upstream, but further than he had anticipated. The radio barked in his hand. It was one of Tatani's men.

"I got 'em. Blinking light on the southern side of the river."

"Good," Tatani replied, "can anyone see them?"

No one responded.

"Alright," Tatani said sharply, "everyone move west. Stay in cover. We're letting them out. But if they try anything open fire."

Tatani spoke to Jordie on his phone.

"You see the light?"

"Got it. You want me going in?"

"No," Tatani said, "hold your position. I'll call you in."

Tatani wanted all of his men in position before Jordie landed. He flicked his radio frequency to that of the kids and caught the tail end of someone speaking.

"... en dead."

Tatani had missed what the kid said. He covered the lapse with a lie.

"My pilot didn't see your signal."

"Make the chopper come to us you son of a bitch. Or I shoot your man now."

"No. Do not do that," Tatani intoned, he knew his tactics were testing them, "signal again and the chopper will come for you."

Tatani moved through the scrub. A moment later he saw two pings of light.

"Make him come to us. Or your man dies. You have seconds."

Tatani swapped frequencies. "Everyone see that? Anyone get a sighter on them?"

"Yes. One kid with a rifle. Had Karl in front of him. They're using a clearing on the southern bank. Do you want us down there?"

"Yes," Tatani ordered, "get close."

Tatani switched frequencies on his walkie-talkie, to talk to the pilot.

"You see that Jordie?"

"Roger that."

"Land, get out, and do as they say," Tatani ordered.

The draft from the chopped made Stu's eyes water. Stu played the plan over in his mind.

Get the pilot out and on the ground. Check he's not armed. Check the rear section. Get Abe inside. Use Tatani's man as a shield.

Stu's limbs were like liquid. But he had come too far to pull out. Abe needed to get out. And Lara was counting on him. Stu had failed her once and he would not fail her again. And having endured so much, having seen so much violence and death, the thought of these things no longer terrified him.

The chopper's engines dropped in pitch. The cockpit light came on and Stu saw the pilot inside.

Get out. Come on.

It was already taking too long. Tatani would be moving toward their position. The pilot pressed a number of buttons on the ceiling and climbed out. He lay face down in front of the chopper.

Stu looked behind him, scanning the slope for Chris. He couldn't see him. Stu shoved the rock filled sack into Karl's hand.

"Hold it up. Don't drop it or throw it. Don't try and run. Or I swear I will blow you away."

With Karl in front of him and the rifle pressed to his chin, Stu approached the pilot.

Stu kept Karl close.

Shoot at me and the bullet goes through him.

They reached the pilot. He was face down with his hands on the ground. His clothes flapped madly in the draft. Stu crouched, keeping Karl with him, and ran his free hand over the pilot's body. He checked up both legs, lower back, and arms.

"Roll over," Stu shouted.

The pilot turned over. Stu patted down the man's chest and stomach and did not detect a weapon. He forced the pilot back on to his stomach and spread his arms out.

"Don't move or I will shoot you."

Stu moved back to the chopper, shielding himself with Karl's body.

Stu flung open the door of the chopper's cockpit. He saw a myriad of illuminated buttons and dials. He drew back the rear cabin door. The interior was finished with a corrugated metal floor and smooth steel walls. Other than a petrol jerry can strapped to the sidewall, the hold was empty.

Stu leant back against the chopper and glanced up the slope. There was still no sign of Chris. Stu shouted and Abe staggered out of the scrub toward the chopper.

Chris saw Abe enter the helicopter and then he updated the positions of Tatani's men.

He had located four men; two on the opposite side of the river, and two on the near side. The men had crept west toward the clearing after Stu signaled the chopper.

Chris did not warn Stu. They had expected Tatani's men to monitor their escape. Tatani would want to see that he was getting his diamonds. As long as the men did not enter the clearing, the situation was manageable. Chris had formed a mental map of their positions and updated it by sighting them one at a time. The men on the near side crouched in the scrub fifteen metres back from the clearing. The two on the far side were still moving in.

Four men, but there were supposed to be six. Most likely the injured man had been left at the camp but that still left one man unaccounted for. The missing man made Chris uneasy. He was a risk. Chris scanned the dense foliage on both sides of the river, but failed to sight the missing man.

Tatani had a clear view of the chopper. One savage had already shown himself. The savage was using Karl as a shield and was presently concealed behind the chopper.

Bastards. Sons of b...

Tatani saw movement in the scrub that fringed the clearing, and a savage stepped into view. It was the injured one that he had tortured. The damaged giant hobbled to the chopper. Tatani was rife with nervous anticipation. He had seen his diamonds. Karl had been holding them in a pouch. The savages had not lied about having them. He hauled his radio out and spoke to his men.

"Watch them. Two have come out but there's a third somewhere. He's their eyes. I've only seen one rifle so assume the missing one is armed."

Tatani studied the dense scrub from which the two savages had just emerged. It was being blown about by the chopper's draft but Tatani could see no one else in there.

Tatani wished that Jordie was miked up. Then he could tell him to run and leave the kids stranded with a chopper they could not fly. But regardless, one of the savages would have to appear to get Jordie up, and that would be the moment to strike.

Tatani flicked his radio to a third frequency.

"Pitbull?"

"Yes?"

"At your next sighter."

With Abe inside the rear hold of the chopper, Stu considered his next move. He knew Tatani's men would have the clearing surrounded. But he had to get the pilot up and back into the chopper.

Stu maneuvered Karl in front of him, and pressed the rifle against his neck.

"You run. You die. Keep the diamonds visible."

Stu moved out to the pilot. The noise, the dust, everything was muted and blurred. Stu knew he was exposed. But the men would not shoot at one of their own. Stu stood over the pilot.

"Get up. Come on. Get u..."

In that instant Stu heard a bullet cut the air close to his head. A millisecond later there was a distinct crack over the roar of the chopper's engines.

Bastards are shooting.

The momentary release in Stu's grip was all Karl needed. He pushed the rifle from under his face and ran. He was in the trees before Stu could get a shot off. And when Stu wheeled around he saw that the pilot had got up and bolted into the opposite trees.

Chapter 39

Stu dove into the rear hold of the chopper. Abe was slumped against the far wall. The engines roared and the chopper rocked in time with the spinning rotors. Outside, bullets pinged off the chopper's metal fuselage close to the cabin door and then abruptly the shooting stopped.

Shit. Hell. Think!

Stu's mind was a mess. Tatani had set them up. Ironically they had the chopper – they were in it, ready to go – but they had no one to fly it. And the men would be moving in, encircling the clearing. Another round of bullets pinged off the outside of the chopper.

Stu realised the bullets were striking the front side of the chopper. The men must be positioned downstream. Stu determined that he and Abe could get out and circle around behind the chopper and run for the trees, using the chopper as cover.

Stu grabbed the jerry can of petrol from the cabin wall and carried Abe to the open door. He jumped out, dragging Abe with him.

To Chris, positioned higher up the slope, things happened very quickly. One moment he had been watching Stu standing over the pilot, and the next Stu had lost their prisoner, and was running for the chopper. Chris saw orange licks of light where Tatani's men were shooting from the scrub.

Chris reacted with the calm precision of a hunter. He rose and balanced himself on one knee, swinging his rifle up.

He saw their prisoner running into the trees twenty metres below him.

Chris tracked the man with his rifle. He fired, the man kept moving. He fired again, the man dropped.

A moment later the tree to Chris' right exploded in a shower of bark. Chris rolled away to his left, taking cover behind a large rock slab.

He lay still. Breathing hard. Someone knew his position.

He peered over the rock. He saw a man in the water, crossing the stream, but the man did not interest him. Instead, Chris scanned the northern slope, certain that the bullet had come from that direction.

Where are...

He saw a burst of orange from halfway up the slope and a millisecond later a bullet struck his covering rock; shards of stone flying into his face. Chris wormed down the slope, keeping to the undergrowth. It was the missing man shooting at him.

Chris stopped in a thick mesh of scrub. He parted the grass with his rifle and studied the northern slope. He had a mental position of where he had seen the orange flash. But the mountain remained a blanket of black. Then he saw it, a grey blur. He focused on the space. The grey was moving. He was too far away to determine the detail but it had to be one of Tatani's men.

Chris readied his rifle. It was a long shot, almost impossible in the dark without a sighter. He would have been better to use his final bullet on one of the men down below. But there were scores to settle. Chris took aim at the grey shape on the opposite mountain.

"Son of a bitch."

Chris sent his final bullet speeding across the valley.

The Pitbull moved quickly down the mountain. Events had unfolded as he and Tatani had anticipated. The savages were trapped inside the chopped under heavy gunfire from the other men. And just as the Pitbull had been preparing to join the gun battle, he'd seen the flash of a gunshot higher up the opposite slope. The Pitbull had peered through his night vision sighter and located the savage, the third one, and the eyes of the group, hidden in the bush with his face painted with mud. The Pitbull had seen his knife strapped to the savage's side.

The Pitbull fired twice and he saw the savage crash down the slope. But he could not be certain that the savage had been hit, so he was on his way to see.

"Pitbull. Come in."

It was Tatani on the radio.

"Yeah?"

"Has their shooter been eliminated?"

"Yes," the Pitbull replied.

"Good. Come down now and join the party."

The Pitbull stowed his radio and at the same moment the tree two inches above him exploded. The Pitbull lurched away from the tree and lost his footing crashing down the slope, tumbling over and over, until he slammed into a tree. He felt a sharp piercing pain in his upper thigh. He looked down and saw a tree branch embedded in his leg. He tried to move but the branch held his leg in place.

The Pitbull leaned forward, assessed the angle of the branch, and then tugged his leg backwards, stifling the scream in his throat.

Tatani crouched in the scrub on the southern bank. He was soaked from crossing the river. Guns cracked around him. He could see Karl lying on the ground fifteen metres away clutching the black pouch. Tatani wanted desperately to get to Karl but it was dangerous with his remaining men pummeling the chopper with bullets.

He yelled into his radio. "Cease fire. I'm going for Karl. Cease fire."

The shooting stopped and Tatani went to Karl. He dragged him into the scrub close to the river.

Tatani knelt over Karl and saw the hole in his chest. His shirt front was drenched with blood. There were wounds on Karl's arms where the kids had cut him. He was battered up like a corpse. But he was not dead.

Karl moaned and raised his hand slightly. He coughed up blood. His eyes were wide with shock as if he could not believe what had happened to him.

Tatani picked up the pouch that contained his diamonds.

What the...?

Tatani knew immediately that something was wrong. He upended it and sand slipped through his fingers.

"The bloody bag is empty, Karl."

Someone yelled over the radio but Tatani ignored it. He leant close to Karl, who was trying to speak.

"Nan oo. No..."

Tatani sensed Karl's fear. He held Karl's head in his hands. Karl's breathing became very laboured. And then, as if in an instant, Karl's eyes turned distant and his body was still.

Supporting Abe, Stu plundered wildly through the bush. Trees loomed up fast out of the darkness. Stu was breathing hard. He was weighed down with Abe over his left shoulder and the rifle and jerry can of petrol on his right side. Things were happening too quickly and he had to regain control. He stole a look over his shoulder; there were shapes back there in the lit spaces between the trees. The men were moving cautiously. They knew he had a gun and were being careful.

Stu tripped in a ditch bringing Abe down with him.

"We got to stop," Abe gasped.

Stu got up on one knee. He could see the men in the trees with their flashlights. Stu knew their best chance was to go to ground and keep still.

"Stay down," he instructed.

Then Stu crawled on, pausing now and then to ensure Abe followed him, until he came to a hollow, dense with foliage.

"This is it," Stu said, "come on."

Stu crawled into the hollow, pushing through the tangled roots, Abe followed him. When Abe was settled Stu squirmed back up. He saw lights. The men had spread out to cover the ground from the river to half way up the mountain. They were still thirty metres back. Then Stu saw the chopper's searchlight.

Chapter 40

The ground was illuminated in stark clarity as the chopper passed overhead. Stu could make out the detail of the dirt close to his face and the chopper's draft ripped at his clothes. But in time the light left him and he was in darkness again.

Stu looked over a log. The men were still approaching with their lights.

"Come on," he said, dragging Abe deeper into the hollow.

It was Stu's plan to move close to the river and skirt around the men and backtrack to the cave. But as they moved, the chopper turned and made a second pass, illuminating the corridor of bush that Stu intended to use. Stu realised that he might elude the men with the torch lights but the chopper was impossible to escape.

"Go. Leave me," Abe pushed Stu away, "I can't move no more."

"No," Stu said, "I'll carry you."

Stu would not leave Abe. Not after what they had been through. He would stay with Abe till the end if he had to. Stu checked on the men. They were now heading toward their position. The chopper was also approaching. Stu forced Abe down, burrowing into the dense scrub as the chopper passed over them, its engines a deafening roar. When the light had passed, Stu rose and saw the jerry can of petrol where he had left it up near a fallen log. He felt for the lighter in his pocket.

Stu crawled up and got the petrol can. Then he crawled away into the scrub pouring petrol as he moved. After he had laid a lengthy trail he lit it with the lighter. A blue flame snaked back through the scrub.

Stu kept moving up the slope pouring more petrol. He could hear the brambles burning behind him. The flames fed off the dense kindling. Already the air was thick with smoke.

"Bloody burning," Stu heard a man shout, "bastards have lit the place up."

The flames leapt high into the air. A line of fire fifteen metres long lay between Stu and the men. Stu felt the heat even at a distance. The branches of a taller tree caught alight and the flames raced up the trunk. The bush was consumed by popping. The smoke and heat drove the men to the river. The chopper pilot, realising it was useless searching with so much smoke, hovered downstream over the rapids.

Stu dragged Abe up the slope, skirting the edge of the fire. With the men at the river, Stu moved freely, and in time he located the cutting in the mountain and started through it.

Chapter 41

Tatani stood on the river bank facing his remaining men. The plan had gone to shit. He did not have his diamonds. Karl was dead and earlier the Pitbull had staggered out of the bush, dazed and injured. He was a walking corpse. His shirt was tied around his thigh to stop the blood pouring out of a wound in his leg.

Smoke wafted downstream from the fire. A rat skittered out of a thicket, escaping the heat.

"They can't get far," Tatani said. Then he got his phone out.

"Jordie what can you see?"

"Nothing," Jordie responded, "smoke is too thick. What just happened? You coming out?"

"No," Tatani said, "hold your position. We got things to finish here. But your earlier passenger, where did you drop him?"

"Half a kilometre downstream. He should..."

At that moment Tatani heard dogs barking and shortly after a figure emerged from the smoke, leading two black Doberman dogs. The figure carried a rifle, a backpack, and a young girl slung over his shoulder.

"Jermal," Tatani called, "your timing is impeccable."

"Brother," Jermal said, "you look like shit."

Jermal fought to restrain his dogs. They barked and snarled and tried to break away from him. Tatani stroked their necks and they dipped their heads to him.

Tatani knelt beside the girl Jermal had laid on the ground. She was unconscious and Tatani forced her eyes open and her pupils dilated. Her skin looked smooth and clean; pristine against the harsh landscape.

"Gave her a shot of Etorphine," Jermal said, "didn't want the bitch freaking on the flight. She slept all the way. She's due to wake up anytime now."

Tatani nodded pensively. Then he turned to his remaining men.

"The dogs were insurance," Tatani explained to the men, "in case the savages did not play things right. And this girl knows some very important information. Someone tie her up and call me when she wakes."

Tatani turned to Jermal. "There is much I need to tell you."

Jermal tied his dogs to a tree. They whined but fell silent when Jermal glared at them. Then he and Tatani moved away from the other men. Once they were alone Tatani narrated all that had happened.

"Five unarmed men have caused these complications," Jermal said, "and Simon? I cannot believe it. Are you sure?"

"I am sure. The source was sound," Tatani said.

"Why? Did he explain?"

Tatani wiped smoke from his eyes. "He denies it. But it all fits together."

"What do you intend to do with him?" Jermal asked.

Tatani was silent for a moment, then said: "What would you do with a disloyal pig?"

"But Simon is..."

"No!" Tatani snapped, "he is no different. What would you do with a disloyal pig?"

Jermal glanced up at the hills, their tops were lost behind the smoke. Jermal avoided the question with another question.

"Where is the prey?"

"Hiding somewhere up there. They are like phantoms."

Jermal lifted his chin like a professor appraising a complex problem. "And they still have the diamonds?"

"Yes," Tatani said.

"You know this for certain?"

Tatani glanced at his brother. "The one's I have on the outside are fakes. They gave Karl a sack full of sand and rocks, but I believe they have the real diamonds. I don't know how they switched the diamonds but I do know they stole the diamonds after the exchange with Volker' side, before we caught them."

"And Volker, he is complicating life on the outside?"

"Volker is a prick. The girl says she saw him, she knows his face. We will ask her when she wakes."

Jermal looked upstream. The fire spanned the width of the mountain and was moving downstream with the breeze. Spot fires sparked by drifting embers had sprung up on the opposite bank and beyond the rapids.

"If we give the dogs a scent they will find the prey," Jermal said.

Then they were interrupted by one of the men.

"She's come to! She's talking!"

"Volker. The name it means something to you doesn't it?"

Lara tried to look away but the man held her head straight. The man was couched in front of her and she was tied to a tree. Another man was tied to the tree beside her. Her eyes darted around the men that surrounded her. Their dirty faces and guns terrified her. Then she looked at the man tied up next to her. She saw the ugly cuts on his chest and face. The blood from the wounds had dried dark brown like long cracks. What had happened out here? Where was Stu? Was he still alive? She couldn't comprehend how she had come to be out in the bush. She had a vague recollection of trying to escape the cell, and then being in a car and a helicopter with one of the men and two vicious dogs, before the man had injected her with a needle. There had been nothing more. She recognised the man in front of her from the night in the shed.

"Volker? Who is he?"

Volker. The name conjured images in Lara's brain of the jewellery shop owner flying back against the wall with a red dot in his forehead.

The man lifted her chin with a knife.

"Tell me about him. Who is he?"

Lara's voice was choked. "I – I – I was in the shop. A man got shot. The man who shot him said his name was Volker."

"Why were you in the shop?"

"I was following a friend. Deano."

"We killed that bastard a couple of days ago."

Lara shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. But she steeled herself, co-operation might save her.

"Deano said he was doing a deal. I – I – wanted to watch. To look out for Stu."

"Ah Stu. Your boyfriend?"

Lara shook her head.

"Volker. What did he look like?"

The men pressed in around her. One of them, the man who had been in the helicopter with her, slammed her head into the tree. "Answer the question. Tell us what you know."

Lara was crying now. "T-t-tall," she bleated, "brown hair. He wore a dark coat."

"Shit, that matches half the population of this country. Eye colour? Distinguishing marks or features?" the man with the knife raged, "tell me! Give me something tangible. Or I swear I'll splatter your pretty face all over the ground."

The faces of the men blurred behind Lara's tears.

"Blue. Blue eyes," she bleated, "no scars. No..."

"Shit," the man with the knife shouted, "that is nothing useful."

He pressed the knife to the soft skin beneath her right eye.

"Cut your eye out. Just..."

The man from the helicopter forced the knife back, leaving a thin blood filled line on her cheek.

"No Tatani, not like this. She can still be useful."

Tatani dragged Lara up by the hair.

"Your friends are hiding in these mountains. They have my diamonds. And you are going to call out to those bastards. Tell them I am going to kill you if they don't show themselves."

Tatani dragged Lara down to the river bank and pressed the point of his knife to her neck, and said: "Loud as you can."

"S – S – Stu," Lara's voice was strangled with fear, and little more than a faint cry.

"Louder!"

"S – STU. STU. PLEASE. STU."

Her voice came loudly this time and having released the pressure, words escaped her freely.

"Help me. Please. Stu. Abe. James. Chris. Come out. Ple..."

Tatani wrapped his hand around her mouth and stood listening, watching the smoke twisting through the trees. There was nothing, just the snap and pop of the fire consuming the dry wood.

Tatani lost his patience. He had the dogs. He did not need the prey to show themselves. The dogs could find them. He shouted at the mountains, turning in a circle.

"ALRIGHT YOU BASTARDS. YOUR GIRLFRIEND HERE IS GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOU. WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!"

Tatani started back up the bank. "Jermal, are the dogs ready?"

Jermal nodded. Earlier he had given the dogs a sniff of the blood stained fabric that had been Abe's makeshift bandage when Tatani had captured him. Jermal presently allowed the dogs to trawl the river bank, their noses close to the ground. He yelled excitedly to Tatani: "They have the scent!"

"Alright everyone," Tatani said, "this is it. The last chapter. We take them out. Get the diamonds and piss off home."

The Pitbull and one other started across the stream with their guns.

Tatani shoved the girl to another man. "If she does anything stupid, shoot her."

Then Tatani approached Simon. "You are coming too."

Stu positioned Abe against the wall inside the cave. Abe's sweat streaked chest heaved as he sucked in air.

Stu struggled to fathom how events had come to this. There had been too many events, each event building on the one before, blurring the path back to their safe and predictable world on the outside. But the outside no longer mattered. All Stu knew was the present. And all the madness would end one way or another, tonight.

Suddenly Chris burst through the front of the cave. Stu felt a wave of euphoria. Stu saw that Chris' shoulder was cut and blood was running down his forearm.

"You're alive. What happened?" Stu asked.

"Shot one of the bastards. Then got shot at. There's a fire?"

"We lit it."

Stu ordered his thoughts. Tatani had destroyed their original plan but with the chopper around, there was still a chance of getting out. Stu's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a cry from down in the valley.

"STU. PLEASE. STU."

Euphoria merged with fear. Lara's voice was like a dream seeping into his consciousness. Lara's voice returned, haunting in the night.

"Help me. Please. Stu. Abe. Chris. Please. Come out. Ple..."

Then Tatani's taunting voice.

Stu ran toward the passage that led out to the mountain. But Chris tackled him and pinned him against the wall of rock.

"No. Not this way, Stu."

"They have her," Stu said. All his thoughts were centred on getting Lara back. He had no plan. No scheme. He just wanted to get her back anyway he could.

"If you go. They will kill you and her. Stay here. They won't hurt her. They still need her. You can work a way out Stu, you are a thinker."

The sounds of barking distracted them.

"Dogs."

Chapter 42

The dogs moved in bursts, starting one way, before scampering back another, sorting through the myriad of scents as they scaled the mountain. The trees were not burning in this section of the mountain but the men felt a draft as the air was sucked into the fire further upstream. The bush seemed alive with noise. The dogs, the men stamping through the bush, Lara's sobs, all merging with the roar of the fire.

Tatani kept close to Simon. But he knew Simon would not run. Simon was too proud to run. Watching the dogs work through the bush Tatani felt, despite all that had happened, that things were in hand. He should have had the dogs out here from the start. They would locate the prey. And when they did, there would be no mercy.

Several minutes later the dogs stopped at the top of the mountain, barking and clawing at the ground. They were perched in front a plot of vegetation. And visible behind the vegetation was a cutting in the cliff.

"DOWN! BACK! DOWN!"

Jermal pulled the dogs back and they sat on their haunches. Tatani stepped forward and surveyed the vegetation. It had been placed purposefully to conceal the cutting in the cliff. He parted the branches and revealed a thin passage that extended behind. Tatani shone his torch up the passage. The light illuminated a step where the ground dropped, before the passage opened into a wider area. The open area appeared to continue up to the left, but was obscured by the cliff.

"I will send in Mishka," Jermal offered.

"No," Tatani said, "we'll bring them out."

Tatani dragged Lara up and slapped her face.

"Now you are going to tell your boyfriends to come out. Tell them we won't hurt them."

Lara shook her head and Tatani shoved her face first into the rock wall. She came away dazed. Tatani pulled his knife.

"You will do this. Or I swear I will cut you up right now."

Lara was crying and struggled to form words.

"Stu, Abe. Don't come out. They will..."

Tatani punched her in the face and her legs gave way beneath her.

"Stupid girl," he said.

Jermal stepped forward with his dogs. "The dogs will flush them out."

"Very well," Tatani said and stepped aside.

Jermal unleashed one of his dogs.

"SICK EM. SICK EM. GO FIND. SICK EM"

Jermal watched the dog leap off the step halfway up the passage and then veer left and vanish behind the cliff. Barking, as it went in for the kill.

It had taken the limit of Stu's will not to rush out of the cave when he had heard Lara's voice. But he had focused his thoughts, trying to think of a way to get to her and eliminate Tatani. The men had located the entrance to the passage so Stu and Chris had taken their defensive positions. Chris had climbed up to where he had rigged the boulder. Stu remained inside the cave armed with Chris' knife and the second rifle. Abe sat further back in the cave with three spears. Abe understood the danger and it made him temporarily alert. He would not die without a fight.

Stu heard the sound of a dog barking; close and getting closer.

Stu mentally plotted the path a dog would take. If it cleared the spike pit it would come around the wall and straight up into the cave. He raised his spears and pressed back tight against the cave wall.

The dog bolted into the cave. It did not see Stu at the front corner, instead it went for Abe.

Abe readied a spear but the dog was too fast for him. It leapt from several metres away and struck him in the chest. They fell together, the dog's teeth snapping at his throat. Adrenalin momentarily overpowered Abe's infection, and he threw the dog off. But it came at him again, snarling, teeth stark white in the dark as it bit at his chest and forearm. Blood poured from Abe's wounds as he tried to shake the dog off. The dog's jaws clamped around his forearm and he battered the animal with his free fist, punching it relentlessly in the head and mouth before gouging its eye. The dog whined and drew away, snarling, stumbling around, half blind. But it remembered its enemy and leapt at him again.

Stu ran and kicked the dog in the side, once, twice, three times, before it rolled off Abe. Weakened, Abe crawled away as the dog lunged at Stu, its teeth tearing at his lower leg. Stu kicked free of the animal but it came at him again.

But Stu was ready.

He grabbed his spear and fell back holding the spear upright with both hands, and the dog landed on the point. There was a slick grating noise as the spear entered the animal's chest. It whined as momentum plunged it further down the spear. Stu held the spear firm, his muscles aching under the dog's weight, then he dropped the spear and dog. The dog yelped and tried to wriggle free of the spear; it wheezed, struggling for air.

Stu crawled over to Abe.

"You alr..."

Stu was cut short by the sound of more barking. He turned and saw a dark shape charging up the slope toward the cave.

The second dog ploughed into Stu and knocked him over, raking its claws down his chest as it snapped at his face. Freeing his right hand Stu stabbed a spear into the dog's hind leg. It yelped and retreated, dragging the spear with it. Then it lunged at him again. Jaws working in a frenzy.

Unarmed, Stu could only defend his face with his arms. The dog bit him, tearing flesh from both arms as it worked toward his face. Stu tried to roll free, left and right, but the animal kept at him, snarling, seemingly everywhere at once. It tore at his shoulder; each bite a sharp searing pain. Stu hit and kicked at the dog, forcing it away from his face, but the dog was too heavy. Stu saw the dog's mouth working beneath his arms, getting toward his throat.

Then Stu heard an inhuman – arghhhhhh – and felt the dog's weight leave him.

Abe carried the dog away in a head lock, one of his thick forearms wrapped around the animal's chest, lifting it so that it was standing on its hind legs. The dog tore at Abe's arms but the big man held firm. Seizing the opportunity, Stu snatched a spear off the ground and plunged it into the dog's exposed belly.

The dog toppled over. It tried to stand but fell on its side. Panting. Whining. Immobilised.

Abe collapsed on the ground, as the adrenalin that had fuelled his final stand, left him in a rush.

Jermal could no longer hear the sounds of fighting inside the cave and assumed the worst. He had raised both dogs from puppies.

"Bastards killed my dogs," he said.

Tatani was uneasy. If the savages inside the cave had resisted the Dobermans, what else were they capable of.

"Simon. You will go in," he ordered, "consider it a pay-back. Not redemption – a payback."

Simon held his gaze for a moment. There was an odd expression on his face; despair and indifference, as if none of what was happening mattered. Tatani handed him a knife.

"I'd give you a rifle but..."

Simon snatched the knife, stepped around Jermal, and started down the rock corridor.

Simon moved slowly up the passage, keeping low, eyes alert. He made it to the step and stopped. He struggled to see with all the smoke. He tried to hear over the sounds of the chopper hovering overhead. He took a deep breath and leapt down.

A piercing wail merged into a single continuous cry of agony. Tatani heard the cry and rushed up the passage with Jermal. They reached the step and looked down.

Simon was lying on the ground. His face was contorted in pain. Tatani's first thought was that Simon had fallen and broken a bone, but his flashlight revealed the true extent of Simon's demise.

Simon was lying in a pit of spikes. One had passed through his right boot and another had gouged his lower leg, and a third had impaled his right forearm. He was no longer screaming, instead groaning and breathing in rapid stunted breaths. He tried to free himself from the spikes, but each movement caused him to settle further into them.

Jermal reached down for Simon. But he was distracted by a booming noise overhead. A huge slab of rock, tumbled, end over end down the cliff. Tatani and Jermal rolled away and the rock crashed into the spike pit. Simon cried out in the instant before he was crushed. His last sound was like a rush of compressed air.

Tatani regained his feet, breathing hard, struggling to think. He thought he saw movement high up the cliff. A second later a bullet struck the rocks behind him.

Jordie's voice barked through the radio in Tatani's pocket.

"Tatani. I can see one on the mountain. Just dropped a rock. He's got a rifle."

A moment later a barrage of gunfire erupted from the chopper.

Chris was in trouble. The boulder had given away his position and the chopper had trapped him in its spotlight. Blinded by the glare Chris shimmied across the ridge as bullets shattered the rocks around him. But he knew he was trapped and pride kicked in. He would not die running. He stopped, stood still, and leveled his rifle at the chopper.

Jordie steered the chopper side on to the mountain to give the man poised at the door of the rear hold a clear shot at the kid.

But the kid fired first.

The first bullet punched through the windshield and buried itself in the metal wall between the cockpit and the rear cabin. But the second shot was more destructive. It cut through the lower metal fuselage and punctured the hydraulic steering column. Hydraulic fluid poured out of the chopper's undercarriage.

The flight controller went limp in Jordie's hands. He fought to regain control but it was no use. The tail of the chopper swung crazily, throwing Jordie out of his seat. The man in the back lost his balance and tumbled out of the hold, his wails were barely audible over the laboured screaming of the chopper engines, as the man plummeted to the ground.

Jordie tried to regain control. The world outside the windshield was a blur from all the smoke in the air. He saw the flames close below, as the chopper lost altitude. The cascading hydraulic fluid caught alight, creating the illusion of a flaming tail swinging in mid-air. The last thing Jordie saw was the cliff as the chopper ploughed nose first into the rock wall.

Tatani watched in morbid awe as the chopper crashed into the cliff and exploded. Flaming pieces of metal, and flaming pieces of Jordie, flew in all directions.

Tatani was drawn back to the present by the sound of gunshots. The Pitbull was firing at a figure moving across the cliff. The figure leapt from the cliff and dropped from view. The Pitbull set off after it, and the other remaining man, followed him. Only Tatani, Jermal and the girl remained.

Tatani struggled to fathom what had happened. He had entered the bush with nine men and only three remained. Simon had been spiked and crushed. Jake was injured and useless. How had the savages culled his men so efficiently? How, without the chopper, would he get out of this place?

"...ker. Volker." The girl was talking.

Tatani glared at her. "What?"

"Volker. Volker. He's..."

Tatani slapped her face. "Shut up. My son is dead in there. My men were in that chopper. Shut up you delirious bitch. Volker means nothing to me now."

Tatani felt stupid explaining these things to the girl. But the carnage had made her hysterical. She just kept stating the name over and over. "Volker. Volker. Volker. Vol..."

Then Jermal was calling to him. "Tatani. We got to go in now. They'll be running."

Tatani flung the girl away. She no longer mattered. The other two savages were hiding somewhere beyond the rock wall. Tatani ran up the passage to the spike pit. Simon's wrist was protruding from beneath the boulder. He checked it. No pulse.

Tatani's head swirled in a complicated mix of grief and disbelief. Death had wiped away his son's sins, and left Tatani wishing that it had ended any other way than this. He wished that it was not Simon pinned under the huge rock, but someone else; anyone other than Simon.

"Later brother," Jermal urged, "there is nothing we can do for him."

Tatani edged along the thin space between the cliff and the pit. He tested the ground with his rifle before stepping down. Then he continued on, wary of other traps.

The passage opened into a wide area. Tatani and Jermal moved together, one covering the other, creeping up a slope toward the mouth of a cave. Blood pounded inside Tatani's head. The savages they were hunting were dangerous. His men had been picked off all around him. They had killed two dogs. He could be killed just as easily.

Could this be a ploy by the savages, to act like they have retreated, but only to launch an ambush.

Jermal stopped suddenly and dropped flat on his stomach. Tatani followed his lead. Jermal tugged at his ear; he had heard something. Tatani strained to hear but there was only the pounding of blood in his brain. But then he heard it, a rustling sound from inside the cave. Someone was in the cave moving around.

He listened closely, before he could take it no longer. He would not lie on the ground like a coward. Not when so many of his men were dead. He pointed at Jermal and then at the ground; Jermal was to hold his position and cover him. Tatani got up and charged into the cave with his rifle.

Tatani's eyes darted around, looking everywhere, listening for the sounds of an attack. But he saw and heard nothing.

The cave had been abandoned.

He got his torch out and played it over the interior. The cave was large; easily five metres across and several metres high. He shone the light toward the back and saw the floor slope up before it was lost in darkness. The prey might still be back there, but Tatani's intuition told him they were not. They were gone.

Then Tatani saw the source of the sounds he had heard. One of Jermal's dogs lay several metres back in the cave. It had a spear in its stomach but it was still alive and trying to stand. The other dog lay away to the left, not moving.

"Jermal, get in here."

Jermal joined him and they explored the cave together. Rudimentary water bowls cut from bark, and lengths of vines were scattered around the ground. A line of spears stood against the far wall. Tatani picked one of the spears up and turned it over, inspecting its point. He shook his head in astonishment.

The prey had been careful, concealing the front entrance with vegetation. And no doubt they had been watching everything they did down in the valley.

Jermal fired a shot into the incapacitated dog. Then he called out from deeper inside the cave.

"There's a tunnel back here."

Chapter 43

A figure moved slowly through the bush on the southern side of the river. The figure's drug withdrawals had caused a constant shaking that he could not control. But the eyes were furtive, searching the shadows.

Deano. The great survivor. The corpse that walked.

Deano should have been dead days ago when Tatani had blown him off the rock shelf. It had appeared that the bullet had found its mark, but that had been an illusion. Deano had jumped as he neared the edge of the rock shelf, arms out, flying forward. The bullet had grazed his right arm.

Deano had hit the rocks hard, dislocating his shoulder and cracking his head. Blood flowed from the head wound, pooling on the rocks. He lay stunned for a moment, alive but unable to embrace the notion.

Then he remembered that the men were coming for him. He tried to get up but the motion sent sharp bolts of pain through his dislocated shoulder. He tried to crawl away but the effort was too much. His brain clouded and he fell on his face unconscious and his dislocated arm twisted at an inhuman angle.

When Deano came to, there was silence. He was still for a long time, dazed, unable to co-ordinate his thoughts. Then with darkness closing in he sat up. The pain in his shoulder had become a numbing sensation that flared when he moved it. He knew he had to fix his arm. He experimented with the dislocation, lifting his shoulder with his good arm, shifting it at different angles, enduring the pain as he tried to work it back into place. But the gentle efforts proved futile and he reefed his shoulder up, crying out in agony as his ligaments stretched, before the bone fell into place.

Slowly he got up and went to the river and drank. He looked around. The trees and mountains merged with the dark sky.

The men were gone. The Others were also gone.

Deano was alone but the thought did not frighten him. He had everything he needed.

Deano remained close to the outcrop for several days. He spent the daytime out of the sun, collecting branches and fashioning them into spears, using the skills he had learned from the dark-haired one. The dark-haired one had also shown him how to hunt. Deano speared a tiny rodent one night and a lizard the next. He made fire from grinding a stick and stone together over a pile of dry grass. And in this way he survived alone.

He could not see the Others but they were in the bush somewhere. One of the Others was injured and they would not have moved far. The men were in the bush also.

In time, with his arm and head having recovered, Deano decided to leave the outcrop and search for them.

He found them a full day's walk away. He saw the men first. They were easy to find as they searched the plain beyond the rapids. The Others, however, were harder to spot, and Deano found them more by chance.

One of them, the dark-haired one, had come down to the stream to drink. Deano had been hidden in the scrub but he had followed his mentor back up the slope. The dark-haired one had vanished behind a slab of rock at the base of the cliff. Deano had thought to follow him but held back, unsettled by the memory of how they had beaten and mistreated him.

Over the ensuing days Deano had seen the dark-haired one and one other come and go. He followed them downstream one night and watched as they hunted the men with spears. Several days later the men had returned and Deano had retreated high up the mountain to watch and wait.

He watched them during the daytime and hunted animals at night further upstream. He became stronger. His shoulder no longer hurt him, and the flesh wound in his arm healed. The bush became his home. He no longer craved the outside; his memories of it were a mess of unordered images. All that existed was what he saw around him.

And tonight as he watched the fire raging in the bush, he had seen a lot.

Deano had followed the men and watched the dogs raid the cave. The men had gone in and the chopper had crashed. And amid the mayhem Deano saw an opportunity.

He stood now at the edge of the men's' abandoned camp. The injured one was asleep against a tree. Deano had watched the injured man before and knew the man was incapable of much. He had been speared and could barely move. Deano entered the clearing and began searching the packs.

He emptied one pack and rummaged through the contents; clothes, compass, torch, nothing useful. He moved to the next pack and the next. He pocketed a packet of chewing gum but otherwise found little to interest him. He wanted a gun or a knife, or one of the radios he had seen the men using.

Suddenly the injured man sat upright and started muttering, his eyes wide open. Afraid the man would give him away Deano's first impulse was to spike him with his spear. But instead, Deano picked up the jacket the man had been using as a pillow, doubled it over, and covered the man's face.

The man squirmed. His hand slapped feebly at Deano's arms. But in time the man's strength faded and he lay still. Deano withdrew the jacket. The man's eyes were open and his face was bright red. He was no longer breathing.

Deano dragged the man down the slope and rolled him into the river. Deano felt a lot better with the corpse cleared away and he returned to the camp. Five minutes later he stood in the clearing with his prizes; a walkie talkie and a hunting knife that he had found beneath the injured man's pack.

Deano moved down to the river and stood on the bank. He watched the northern mountain for any sign of the men. He saw a blink of a flashlight high up near the cliff. The light appeared only for a moment, but it was enough to arouse Deano's interest.

Tatani moved cautiously through the tunnel toward the strip of moonlight that marked the exit. Jermal had already reached the end, his shape stood in silhouette for a moment before it disappeared. In time, Tatani reached the exit and stepped into the open. He caught a glimpse of the valley below, the trees barely visible in the darkness.

Then he was struck in the side of the head.

His vision wavered and he staggered against the cliff. A hand grabbed him by the throat, pinning him to the rock face.

The Pitbull knew the savage was up ahead, hiding in the trees. With all the smoke he could not see him, but he could hear him. The Pitbull had to get the kid quickly because his own strength was fading. The injury in his thigh had damaged an artery and blood just kept leaking from the wound. His head felt light. The trees blurred in front of him.

But he would take his prey down.

He thought he saw the savage up ahead and flicked his torch on. But it was just a tree growing at an odd angle. He extinguished the light. In the same instant something scrambled away in the bush.

The Pitbull followed the sounds down the slope.

Jermal.

"Wha – what?" Tatani struggled to form the words as his brother kept a knife pressed beneath his chin.

"Consider it brother," Jermal rasped.

Tatani shook his head. "I don't..."

And then it struck Tatani in a rush, all the tiny fragmented pieces, the facts that he had misread so badly.

"Volker?"

Jermal laughed. "Me – him – the same – one."

Tatani spat in Jermal's face and Jermal head butted him.

"When," Tatani stammered, "for how long? How?"

"Long enough," Jermal said, "the docklands. Your two men. Good guys but wrong place at the wrong time. I thought Luka was going to talk but my pigs took him and his information to the grave. The deal with the diamonds, designed to leave you out of pocket a pile of dollars and disorganised. But the diamonds were meant to come back to me. The kid was supposed to bring them back. But he ran with them."

"The girl?"

Tatani remembered the girl repeating Volker's name before he raided the cave. She knew. She had been telling him.

"She saw my face. I had hoped that you would do her in. I tried to find her on the outside but you kept her well hidden. Then bloody hell, bingo brother, you call me up and ask me to bring her out here. I had the entire flight to convince her not to talk. Poor girl was paralysed with fear even before I drugged her. And you bringing me out here with her, was the final piece of the puzzle. Perfect, all the players in one place, all lining up for extermination."

"And Simon was helping you? The two of you against me?"

Jermal laughed. "No. He had no part in it. I fed his photo around. I knew that mercenary Raven you had digging into things would get hold of it eventually. Simon was innocent but you cut him brother. You tortured him. And you sent him into that spike pit."

Remorse swirled in Tatani's stomach. The blade of Jermal's knife was flush against his throat. Tatani always knew that he would die one day, but not like this. Not at the hand of his brother. The brother he had rescued in Malta and set up in Australia. The brother he had looked out for growing up. That same brother had turned against him. Tatani wondered how many secrets he had shared with Jermal, only for Jermal to use them against him.

"Why?"

Jermal laughed, keeping the pressure on his knife.

"Why? Power. Glory. I want what you have. Your network. Your reputation. Your wealth. I don't want to build this shit from the ground up. But that's not all of it. That's not really it. If you want to know why?" a cold edge entered Jermal's voice, "it's because of you. Because of what you are and what you did. You ruined my life. You sided with that sick drunken bastard that was our father. You weren't there when he raped our mother before I cracked his head with a pipe. She took the fall for what I did; to save me. And you weren't there when she died of pneumonia and despair in prison. But you killed her brother. You kill everything. And now I will kill you."

But Tatani was not ready to die. In a swift motion he swiped Jermal's foot from under him. As Jermal momentarily lost his balance, Tatani pushed Jermal's knife away and up. The blade raked across his cheek.

Jermal regained his balance and drove his elbow into Tatani's face. Then he fought to bring the knife down again.

Tatani absorbed the blow and blocked Jermal's lunge with the knife. Then Tatani maneuvered, inch by inch, off the wall, straining against the strength of his brother, the knife blade getting closer to his face. And then he rolled sideways across the wall, avoiding the knife as it slashed past his chest. Tatani grabbed Jermal by the neck and rammed him face first into the rocks. The knife fell free and Tatani kicked it away. Jermal turned, blood streaming down his face.

Tatani pounded his fist into his brother's face. Jermal went down on one knee and Tatani went to kick him but Jermal deflected the blow and led up with his head, warping Tatani's jaw. Jermal kneed Tatani in the abdomen doubling him over and lifted his knee into Tatani's face.

Jermal located the knife and lunged at his brother with it. Tatani straightened and met him. He grabbed Jermal's wrist directing the knife away from his face as they tottered at the edge of the slope.

"Die," Jermal grunted forcing the knife down.

"No," Tatani said and released his brother's arm and ducked. Momentum forced Jermal forward, over Tatani's back and over the edge. His scream echoed as he tumbled away in the darkness. Tatani saw the body plough into a rock, before cart-wheeling into a section of trees.

Tatani stood sucking in air. He tilted his head back and pinched his broken nose. He tried to reorder all that Jermal had told him.

Simon.

Tatani saw a vision of his son cut and crushed beneath the boulder. A deep wave of remorse filled him. But he forced himself to focus on the present. He could mourn Simon later. The prey was still alive and they still had the diamonds. Fury beat inside him. It was the savages that had caused all of this. If not for them no one would be out here. Simon would be alive. Karl would be alive. All of them would be alive. Tatani picked up his rifle and descended the slope. He knew the savages had escaped out the rear of the cave, but he had no tracks to follow. His instincts told him they would have moved downstream where less of the bush was on fire. He spoke into his walkie-talkie as he moved.

"Pitbull. Come in. Pitbull."

No response.

The Pitbull and one of his other men were out there. Dead? Alive? It did not matter. Tatani would finish this alone.

Realising the futility of trying to defend the cave Stu and Abe had retreated through the rear tunnel. The trip down the mountain had been treacherous. Steep and thick with trees, there had been no natural path. Stu had struggled to remain upright, tripping and stumbling, clutching tree trunks to keep from falling. Abe, having used his last reserves to defeat the dogs, had once again become a heavy burden. Stu had heard an explosion and abruptly the sounds of the chopper had ceased.

He was not sure how many men were left and what they were doing. Or what Chris was doing? Whether Lara was still alive?

He looked behind. The mountain they had left was in darkness. To the left the river was placid after the rapids. Spot fires fuelled by floating embers had started in the trees around them. A larger wall of fire had taken hold downstream. They were moving in an unborn section of bush between both fire fronts. Stu knew that he could not fight the men when he was carrying Abe.

Place him somewhere safe. Mark the spot so I can find him later.

Stu's thinking had become clinical. He feared for Lara but he could not let that fear distract him, if he was to save her. He studied his surrounds. He was close to the water. He could hide Abe here in the thick vegetation, so that Abe could drink if he needed to. Abe groaned when Stu set him down.

Chris charged down the slope, heart racing. He knew the man had a fix on his position. He turned and glimpsed a figure twenty metres back, masked by smoke. But the figure was unmistakable, it was the one they called the Pitbull. Chris fired and the figure dropped, lost in the trees and smoke. But there was movement up there and Chris fired again. No more movement.

Chris breathed deeply, calming himself. It had been wrong to fire the second, his final bullet, so quickly. He should have taken his time, and waited for a clear shot. But knowing it was the Pitbull pursuing him, Stu had been unable to control his actions.

There was a crack and a bullet struck the dirt close on Chris' left. Another bullet struck a tree above his head. Chris rolled down the slope and hit a tree. Dizzy and disoriented he steadied himself, listened, and watched the slope above him. But there was no movement. His brain was swamped with fear. The man was still alive. And Chris was completely exposed.

The Pitbull supported himself against a tree. Weak from losing so much blood, it felt as if the world were tilting. The faintness had struck the Pitbull just as he had been preparing to blow the kid away, and his shots had missed the target. The wound in his leg no longer hurt him; a sure sign that the life was leaking out of him.

But he could still move.

He heard the savage in the scrub close to the water and started down the slope. He knew it was the savage that had taunted him. The knowledge spurred him and he felt strong again. But the strength was a temporary sensation and it would pass and the next rush of dizziness would be worse than the one before, and the one after that would be worse and so on, until he would feel no more.

He glimpsed his target on the river bank. He was certain now that the kid had no bullets left, otherwise he would have used them. He wouldn't be running like this in the open. Squinting against the smoke the Pitbull got his rifle up and fired. A clumsy shot, the bullet flew high and the kid kept running. The Pitbull fired again. The kid was only fifteen metres ahead but the Pitbull's vision was playing tricks. His fingers were cold. His breath came in shallow gasps.

The Pitbull was level with the water now. The thumping of the rapids was loud. Maybe the kid had thrown himself in the river to chance the rapids. He glanced over the edge at the water and in the same instant a shape dropped out of the branches overhead.

Chapter 44

They landed together and parted, scrambling to their feet. Chris swung at the Pitbull's face.

The Pitbull saw the blow coming but was too slow in parrying it. He took it on the chin and fell back into the scrub. His eyes glazed over and his brain blanked for an instant. When he came to the kid was standing over him, kicking him in the side and stomach. Chris kept at him, driven by fury, kneeling over the Pitbull and punching him relentlessly in the face.

The Pitbull had taken plenty in his time but never when he had lost so much blood. Each blow rocked his head. But the Pitbull was not finished. He took what the kid delivered but watched for an opening. He remembered where his rifle had landed and given the chance he would go for it. Chris struck him in the ear and the Pitbull heard a shrill ringing and then another punch split his mouth. Then Chris stood preparing to kick the Pitbull's face, but he slipped.

The Pitbull seized the chance. He rose, leading with his forehead, butting Chris on the chin and following up with the point of his elbow. Chris was knocked down by the combination.

The Pitbull crouched over Chris and jammed the heel of his hand into Chris' face, once, twice, three times. Believing he had immobilised his enemy the Pitbull crawled away for his rifle. He searched the scrub where the rifle had landed.

But it wasn't there. The Pitbull searched frantically through the grass and with his back turned he did not see Chris regain his feet. Chris ploughed into him and the two fell together. Somehow they struggled to their feet. The two combatants swayed a distance apart from each other, breathing hard, barely able to stand. The Pitbull's brain was muddled from having lost so much blood. Chris could barely see from the damage the Pitbull had done to his face. Like two tired rams they lunged at each other, their forces cancelling, as they wrestled close to the water's edge, each searching for leverage over the other. The white water of the river raged behind them.

Suddenly the two were distracted by an odd, animal sounding shriek. They looked back to the bush. Deano was there with the Pitbull's rifle pointed at them.

Deano fired and there was a moment of inaction and then the Pitbull looked down at the red hole that had appeared in his chest. His breathing suddenly became very difficult. He tumbled backward clutching Chris' arm and the two fell into the raging water.

Deano scampered to the edge of the bank. He saw the bodies tumbling away in the rapids. It had not happened how Deano had planned. Eliminating the Pitbull had been satisfying but the dark-haired one was not supposed to have gone into the river.

A certain attachment remained to the dark-haired one.

Chapter 45

Tatani was at the base of the mountain. The trees were alight around him. Spot fires seemingly multiplied before his eyes. Thick smoke obscured his vision.

With one of them injured, they could not have got far.

He stepped over a burning tree branch near the river. A volley of gunshots sounded from upstream.

Pitbull has found his target.

Tatani made it to the riverbank. Another gunshot sounded from upstream.

Pitbull just finished him off.

Or was it the other way? Had the Pitbull been killed? After all that had happened, it was possible.

Tatani dismissed the Pitbull's battles and focused on his own. Having lost the tracks, things were complicated, and dangerous. He tried to out-guess his enemy. He was tracking two men. One was injured. The other was most likely armed with a rifle and spears.

But they can not move fast. Do they stop and hide? Do they head downstream? Or does the fit one leave his injured mate and come and fight?

Tatani skirted away from the river, threading through the trees. He flinched at a shape but realised that it was just a tree, the shadows twisting it into something remotely human.

Then by chance Tatani spied another shape, in the space between two trees twenty metres up the slope. The shape suddenly came to life and ran. Tatani got a shot off but the shape kept running and dissolved into the darkness.

A bullet punched through the trees as Stu ran. He hid in the scrub and wormed away on his stomach. He knew his best chance was to get as far away from the place where he had been seen. He coughed as the smoke got in his lungs. The bush was alive with the smells and sounds of burning.

Stu looked down the slope and saw the figure creeping up. He didn't know how many men were left but it seemed that only one was tracking him.

Stu crept sideways across the mountain. He kept below the height of the scrub, circling behind the man. In time he halted, fifteen metres away from his target. It was a high percentage shot.

He took aim with his rifle, preparing to release his final bullet.

The smoke obscured everything. A fire had sprung up on Tatani's right and another to his left. The crackle and hiss of trees igniting was deafening. Blinded and unable to hear, Tatani was exposed.

The tension twisted his nerves as he struggled to orient himself in the dark. With all the smoke he could not be sure how high he was on the slope. Was he above or below where he had seen the prey?

Something shifted to his right and Tatani glared in that direction. A wallaby bounded out of the burning bush. Tatani kept moving, his senses alert. He heard another sound, this time below him to the left. He stopped, heart pounding, palms slick with sweat.

He knew he was losing his nerve. He had become the hunted instead of the hunter. A branch exploded to his right and Tatani ducked.

He cursed his stupid fears and stood defiantly in the scrub.

_Crack_.

A bullet ripped through the leaves above him.

He dove to the ground. Peering through the fronds of grass he tried to see any movement. His eyes searched the bush but all he saw was a wash of grey smoke. Blindness intensified his fear.

He squirmed into the dense foliage. And then he heard movement, the sounds of someone crashing through the scrub.

Instinctively Tatani took aim at a blurred shape charging down the slope toward him, and fired three quick shots, his hands working in a blur as they chambered the rounds. The figure fell. Tatani watched the space, listening, determining if the savage had been immobilised.

Tatani heard only the hissing of the fire. He got up and approached where the figure had fallen. He had his rifle ready. The man might still be alive and only pretending to be dead.

Tatani found the body, obscured in the tangle of scrub. Tatani parted the scrub exposing his attacker's face.

He recoiled in shock.

One of his own men lay with his eyes open; seeing everything but nothing at all.

Stu could not believe it. There had been two men. The one he had shot at and then another coming down the slope.

But the men had shot each other?

Stu was about to move when he heard noise behind him. He whirled around readying his rifle, expecting one of the men, but seeing a ghost instead.

Deano's face was smeared with dirt and mud. He had several spears and a knife. Stu's mind swam with disbelief. But Deano was not fussed as he grunted and ducked in beside Stu. Together they watched the man crouching beside his fallen friend. Suddenly the man stood and shouted, shaking his rifle.

"Come and get me you bastards!"

Stu recognised Tatani's voice. The words echoed through the valley.

Stu saw that the fire had encircled them. The wind had changed direction and was fanning the flames back upstream. Behind him, downstream, a line of fire spread from the waterline to high up the slope. The flames leapt high in the darkness and Stu felt the intense heat.

"Come and get me," Tatani shouted again.

Deano grunted and jabbed his spear toward Tatani. Then he left his spears on the ground, and trotted away.

"Help me," Stu said.

Deano shook his head and disappeared in the smoke.

"Bullshit," Stu hissed.

But then he remembered Lara and Abe and Chris and James. Tatani had caused all of this. He had hurt them all.

Alright Tatani you son of a bitch. It is time.

Tatani didn't see the thing coming. He felt a searing pain and looked down and saw a spear hanging from his abdomen. Another spear flew out of the darkness. It struck his back but did not dig in, and clattered onto the ground.

Spearing me. Bastards.

Flames leapt from the trees either side of Tatani.

Suddenly a figure charged out of the smoke. Tatani tried to swing his rifle around but his attacker was too quick. He felt a slicing pain as a spear ripped into his upper arm. He dropped his rifle.

Tatani stood up, the spears heavy and awkward in him, as he faced his attacker. The savage lunged at him with a knife but Tatani avoided the blow and the savage fell into the bush. Tatani pulled the spear out of his stomach, the tip grating at his insides, his vision blurring. Then he ripped the spear out of his arm just as the savage tackled him to the ground.

The two rolled together. Stu tried to claw his way on top of his enemy but Tatani struck him in the face with his good arm. Tatani tried to get up but felt a sharp pain in his stomach where Stu had speared him. Stu slashed at his face with the knife but Tatani drew back and the blade sliced the air with an audible ffshhh. The failed blow drew Stu forward and Tatani raised his knees into Stu's stomach. Stu rolled away, doubled up, winded, and fighting for breath. Tatani was on Stu quickly, and grabbed him by the hair and flipped him onto his back. Stu swiped feebly at Tatani with his knife but Tatani dodged the blow and grabbed Stu's wrist, shaking the knife free. Then Tatani rammed Stu's head into the ground relentlessly until Stu saw a bright flash of white and stopped struggling.

Tatani pinned Stu's arms down with his knees and looked down at his enemy. The painted face appalled him.

"You think you can beat me," Tatani hissed.

Stu looked up at Tatani's twisted features. The same face had appeared countless times in his dreams. But in those dreams he had been kicking Tatani's face in. Tatani picked up the knife and held the point above Stu's throat.

"You stole from me. That is why we are out here. That is why my men are dead. My son, you killed him. My men are all dead because you stole from me."

The thought of Simon lying in the spike pit fuelled Tatani. He leant on the knife, relishing the fear in Stu's eyes. The pain in Tatani's stomach made him wince. His vision blurred but he blinked the sensation away, and maintained pressure on the knife.

"You were supposed to run like animals."

"We didn't ask for any of this," Stu gasped, "you put us out here."

Stu knew that he could not escape Tatani's grasp. His only chance lay in Deano returning. Maybe he would come back. Stu saw a spear lying beyond his reach. But what good was a spear against a knife. The flames had closed in around them, barely fifteen metres back, and Stu could feel the intense heat like a hot blanket. Hot embers blew into Stu's face and stung his skin.

"My diamonds?" Tatani spat.

"We do not have them?"

"Bullshit. My diamonds?"

Stu remained silent and Tatani read the truth in Stu's expression. Tatani knew at that moment that the savages had strung him along. They did not have the diamonds. And therefore Stu was expendable.

"You lying bastard."

Tatani raised the knife and drove it down. But Stu reacted quickly. He felt the momentary lightening in Tatani's weight and got his arms free of Tatani's knees and grabbed Tatani's wrists, halting the blade above his throat. But Tatani had the elevated position and the knife edged down toward his neck.

Veins rose across Tatani's forehead and face as he forced the knife down. Stu knew he could not hold on. His strength was failing. His arms trembled. In his final stare he looked deep into Tatani's eyes, and saw the fire reflected in them. Stu closed his eyes and surrendered to his own demise.

But the blow never came. Instead Stu felt his attacker's weight leave him. He opened his eyes and saw Tatani roll away with a spear buried deep in his side. And a figure, Deano, no a girl, Lara, standing over him. Tatani lunged at her but Stu cut him off, kicking Tatani in the face. Then Stu picked up the knife Tatani had dropped.

He slashed at Tatani, cutting him across the chest. Tatani groaned and rolled over. The flames were close now, leaping at them.

Stu yelled at Lara, "get to the river."

But Lara didn't leave. She kicked Tatani in the face as he tried to stand and then kicked him in the side, rolling him over. The violence spurred Stu. He jabbed Tatani with the knife, opening up his stomach. Then Stu sliced Tatani's arm as Tatani tried to protect his face. Tatani fell over, landing awkwardly, forcing the spear deeper into his side.

Then together Stu and Lara kicked Tatani. They doubled him over. They battered his head and body, forcing him back, rolling him closer to the flames.

Tatani shrieked as his clothes caught alight. He rolled frantically on the ground, trying to put out the flames, but the spear in his side made it impossible. With a final kick, Stu shoved Tatani into the inferno. The flames engulfed Tatani, igniting his hair, his arms and legs, his head and face. Tatani's screams merged with the roar of the fire. In a final desperate act Tatani crawled out of the fire, a ball of flames, before he fell forward, snapping the shaft of the spear, and the flames consumed him.

Stu could feel his own skin crawling with pain. He grabbed Lara's arm and they raced for the river.

Chapter 46

They leapt into the stream. The cold water washed over them, extinguishing the heat. They embraced, standing in the knee deep water, savouring the touch of each other's bodies. The touch that they believed had been lost forever. Lara's body shuddered as she cried into Stu's shoulder.

"Did they hurt you, did they touch you?" Stu asked.

Stu stepped back, observing her body, noticing the blood around her mouth, her bruised eye.

"They hit you?" Stu said.

Lara stroked Stu's face. "I am here. I am alive. You are alive."

Stu held her close, but broke away suddenly, "Abe."

Stu got out of the water and sprinted downstream. The fire was raging ahead of him but he moved along the clear corridor between the bush and the stream. Stu passed the main front of the fire and behind the line of burning was a smoking wasteland of charred trees.

Abe?

Stu saw a shape at the waterline. He approached the spot and found Abe lying face down half in, half out, of the water. Stu rolled the big man over.

"Abe. It's me. Stu. They're gone Abe. It's over. Tatani's dead. We got Lara."

Abe opened his eyes a crack and moaned.

Stu lifted Abe into a sitting position. Lara knelt beside him, stroking Abe's hair, "his leg," she said.

"I know, help me carry him."

They lifted Abe and walked him downstream beyond where the fire had scarred the earth. Even if the wind turned and the fire advanced again, it would be blocked by the line of bush that it had already burnt.

"We sleep now. A couple of hours," Stu said, "then we work things out."

Stu and Lara lay down, holding each other.

"It will be morning soon," Stu said, exhaustion hitting him in a rush, "we can work out what to do next in daylight. Maybe we can use something they left at their camp. A phone. A long range radio. We'll find Chris and Deano. But now we got to rest."

Stu rolled over and faced Lara, their faces close, so that Lara's two eyes became a single untarnished blue globe. Stu suddenly felt at home and safe.

They held each other and were asleep in minutes.

Chapter 47

It was early morning and Stu and Lara had moved upstream beyond the rapids. The bush here had once been thick and impenetrable but it was now a flat expanse of open land. The entire valley was a black charred mess. Smoke and ash drifted in the air. The smell of burning was everywhere. The black earth continued for as far as he could see. In the distance, a brown cloud of smoke marked the continuing fire front.

The valley was quiet except for the pounding of the rapids. There was nothing left. The fire had swept away all that had happened last night as if it had been a bad dream. But it was not a dream. James was dead. Chris was unaccounted for and Deano had vanished. Tatani and his men had been killed.

All of them?

Some of Tatani's men might have survived but Stu did not care. They could attack. He would fight them too. After last night he was not afraid of them. He had Lara and he would not lose her again. Stu had hoped to find Chris and Deano alive. However, he sensed that Chris had met his end and that Deano was unlikely to show himself. Deano had changed. The Deano he had seen last night had been wild and barely recognisable. He had been at home in the bush, comfortable in the dark and trees. As if he belonged out here.

Across the river the fire had razed the men's camp. There was no use exploring it further. The fire had destroyed everything.

"Are they all gone," Lara asked.

"I don't know," Stu said.

Stu regarded her for a moment. She had washed in the stream this morning and her damp hair glistened in the sunlight. She took his hand in both of hers.

"I thought I had lost you," she said, "I don't want to ever think that again."

Stu nodded and they held each, rocking together on the river bank in the early morning light. Then they returned to Abe. The big man's face and body were smeared with black ash. His wounded leg was riddled with dirt and was red and swollen. Stu cupped Abe's head in his hands.

"It's all gone Abe. It's just the three of us. Deano's gone. Chris' gone. But we can make it. If we follow the river it will take us out."

Stu fell back on the same belief he had held from the start.

Stick with the river. It will trace a path back to the outside. A farm. A dam. Something man-made.

Stu got Abe up and with Lara's support they started downstream, keeping to the thin strip of land between the bush and the water. Looking ahead Stu saw the next line of mountains. His hopes rose, same as they had countless times before.

"The next mountain," he said, "there'll be something behind it."

The afternoon sun was hot. They had been walking since the early morning. They had followed the river as it swept through several lines of mountains. Stu's hopes had surfaced each time they entered a new valley, believing that it would be the one to offer a sign of civilisation. But his hopes were dashed each time.

Stu experienced a mounting despair.

Abe could die at any moment. Stu was with Lara but together they could die. It seemed a cruel and unjust end. For them to have survived so long, and to have defeated Tatani, only to be killed by the elements.

Late evening. The sun was low behind them, obscured by the mountains. The next hill lay a hundred metres ahead.

"One last hill," Stu muttered, "we get over it and then we rest for the night."

Stu did not dare to hope for anything now. He had been deflated too many times before. The land beyond the hill would be the same as the land they had covered throughout the day. But conditioned to walking he pressed on; keeping to the river, following its path.

They made it as far as the base of the hill and no further.

Stu set Abe on the ground and left Lara with him. Then Stu climbed the hill alone, to get a view from above the trees. He reached the summit and worked to the edge of the hill.

No. It cannot be?

Barely a hundred metres ahead, difficult to see in the growing darkness, was a road. It cut a path through the trees and crossed the river.

Stu ran back to Abe and Lara.

"Get up, there's a road. Abe. A road!"

They came to the road at the point where it crossed the river. An old wood and metal bridge spanned the water. The road was sealed and marked with white dividing lines. Stu stepped on to the road and the feeling of the tar, warm from the sun, was supreme. It was solid, familiar, a definitive link with the outside.

"We got it. We're out."

Lara clung to Stu's arm. "A car will come. Someone."

They walked in the middle of the road, heading east. Their fatigue had been forgotten. The road had been so close, only a day's walk from the cave. How might things have been if they had kept moving instead of taking cover in the cave? But it did not matter. They were out now. They could follow the road until a car came or they arrived at a service station or a small town.

Suddenly, the trees ahead were illuminated.

They turned and saw a pair of lights approaching. They held their ground in the middle of the road, waving, jumping. A semi-trailer emerged from the darkness, the driver working hard on the brakes, swerving onto the shoulder of the road to avoid hitting them. The truck rolled to a stop and the driver thrust his head out of the window. He wore a cap and was chewing on gum.

"Bloody hell."

Stu looked up at him.

"Can you take us?"

The driver chewed on his gum, looked them over. He was suspicious of their appearance; half dressed, dirty, one of them, a big son of a bitch, injured.

"Get inside."

Stu carried Abe around to the passenger side where the driver had opened the door. Stu helped Abe up and then assisted Lara up the tall step. Once Stu was inside the driver got the truck back on the road. Glancing over he saw Abe's leg and frowned.

"Now tell me. Just what the bloody hell have you been doing?"

Epilogue

Deano scurried through the trees. His face and body were black from the ash of the fire. It was early morning and he weaved between the trees avoiding the pockets of sunlight that pierced the canopy of leaves overhead. His movements were fast, like those of a rodent.

Deano had left the Others behind last night. There were two of them; the big one and the one who had made them fire. The other two were dead. And all of the enemy were dead. Deano might have remained with the other two but his mind was wrapped around another priority.

Last night Deano had moved quickly upstream skirting around the fire front. He had found a safe place and slept for the few hours until morning. Then he got up and kept moving. By now the fire was visible as a dark wall of smoke, several kilometres behind him. The bush ahead remained thick and green.

In time Deano came to a familiar section of land. A wide flat section of rock before an expansive red plain. The sight triggered bad memories. To the right he saw the drop, where he had fallen on to the stone river bank below. He saw the rock outcrop with the single tree at its peak. He scurried up the outcrop. Reaching the summit he approached the tree, a pair of shoes lay at its base. They were the shoes he had left there days ago. He picked one up and turned it over, emptying it.

He smiled as ten diamonds tumbled into his palm.

The sunlight played off the precious stones, casting a spectrum of colours over his face. He smiled and everything else was forgotten.

The End

About Max Bolt

Max Bolt lives in Sydney, Australia, and has spent time living in the United States and London. He has been writing fiction all his life and has written several short stories. The Hunting is his first novel. To find out more about Max Bolt and his novel _The Hunting_ , you can find them on the web at: thehuntingmaxbolt.blogspot.com
