Needless to say, Sergio and I did not spend the next two hours chatting. In fact we didn’t exchange a single word until we heard Reuben’s van approaching the house again, at about eight-thirty. By that time we were sitting at the kitchen table, studiously ignoring each other. Sergio had swallowed a couple of aspirins that he’d found in Lincoln’s gym bag, while I had taken a bath and put on the dirty T-shirt that I’d stuffed into a kitchen cupboard earlier that afternoon. (I figured that a dirty T-shirt was better than no T-shirt at all.) Sergio was combing his hair. I was holding a makeshift icepack to the lump on my head. We were also eating leftovers: pickles dipped in tomato ketchup.

I think we were both trying to pretend that Lincoln and Gary didn’t exist. We certainly hadn’t made the slightest effort to check on them. I mean, we couldn’t do anything to help them, could we? And I didn’t want to just sit and watch them suffer.

‘Listen.’ Sergio looked up. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

I listened. ‘Someone’s coming,’ I deduced.

‘Quick! Turn the lights off!’

‘You turn the lights off. My foot hurts, remember?’ When he rose, I added, ‘It’s probably Reuben.’

‘Yeah, but suppose it isn’t?’ Sergio flicked the switch by the door, plunging us both into darkness. ‘I wish Reuben hadn’t taken the gun,’ he snivelled. ‘What’ll we do if it’s that guy from Broken Hill? We’ll have to hit him with a frypan when he walks in.’

Luckily, however, it wasn’t the guy from Broken Hill. When Reuben pulled up outside, I was already peering through the back window. And my pulse slowed right down when I spotted his van.

‘Don’t worry. It’s Reuben,’ I told Sergio, who had started to scour the cupboards for a heavy pot. He immediately rushed over to join me.

‘Has he brought any food?’ asked Sergio.

‘I dunno.’

‘There must be somewhere in Cobar that sells food. Even if it’s just salted peanuts . . .’

We both pressed our noses to the dusty glass, keen to catch sight of a pizza box or a bag of groceries. But we were doomed to disappointment. Though the cabin of the van was stuffed with people, not one of them seemed to be carrying so much as a bottle of water.

‘Aw, crap,’ Sergio complained. ‘Would it have killed him to buy a couple of hamburgers?’

‘They might have brought some chocolate bars,’ I hazarded, watching the van disgorge its load. First came Reuben, jingling his keys. Then came Dr Plackett, in a truly ridiculous outfit. (Why the hell was he wearing a safari suit?) Then came Nina, looking very small and pinched in a droopy dress with flowers all over it. And then came . . . ‘Who’s that guy?’

Sergio frowned. ‘Which guy?’ he said.

‘That guy.’ I pointed at a short, balding, middle-aged man with a broken nose and very little neck. He seemed to be grey all over; his face was grey, his clothes were grey, his hair was grey. ‘I’ve never seen him before. No one ever mentioned him.’

‘Isn’t he the doctor?’

‘No. That’s the doctor. The one with the medical bag.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘How did everyone fit in?’ I couldn’t understand it. They might have been skinny, but even so . . . four? All the way from Sydney? ‘And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s night-time, for God’s sake. Do they think they’re movie stars, or something?’

Much to my relief, the sunglasses didn’t stay on. Nina took hers off as soon as she entered the house, and her two friends did the same. For a moment they stood blinking, their eyes screwed up against the light. Then Nina spotted me.

‘Hello, Toby,’ she remarked. ‘You look a bit rough.’

I could have said the same thing about her. In fact I nearly did. Though I’d been feeling pretty sorry for myself, up until that moment, I was shocked when I first saw Nina in the harsh light of an unshaded, hundred-watt bulb. She was gaunt and pasty-faced. Her eyes were ringed by dark shadows, like a raccoon’s. She had hollow cheeks and cracked lips and bluish fingernails.

So did Dr Plackett, but you always expect older people to have health problems. When an older person is sallow and sickly, it doesn’t seem so strange. As for the grey guy, he was actually tottering. Nina had to lead him to a chair.

‘This is Barry,’ she explained. ‘He’s a bit carsick.’

Carsick my arse, I thought. But all I said was, ‘Why did you bring him, then? What’s he here for?’

Reuben and the doctor exchanged glances. Before either of them could speak, however, Nina jumped in. ‘He’s supposed to be my uncle. The one who let us stay when we eloped.’ There was a twinkle in her eye. ‘Like that priest from Romeo and Juliet.’

I couldn’t help blushing. To hide it, I limped over to a chair and sat down. Sergio, meanwhile, was bombarding Nina with questions.

‘But wasn’t that uncle story just a ruse? To get Toby’s mum out here?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t we gunna tell her the truth when she arrives? Why do we need a fake uncle – have I missed something?’

‘Um . . .’ Nina hesitated. She turned to Dr Plackett, who immediately took over.

‘You must be Sergio,’ he said, stepping forward. ‘I’m Dr Plackett. Dr Sanford Plackett.’

Sergio didn’t know what to make of this. Though he grudgingly let Dr Plackett shake his good hand, he also withdrew it very quickly, with a baleful and suspicious look.

‘This is Nina Harrison,’ the doctor continued, ‘and this is Barry McKinnon. He’s the owner of Wolgaroo.’

‘McKinnon?’ I echoed. But Dr Plackett hadn’t finished.

‘We felt that we couldn’t prevent Barry from coming along to inspect the place,’ he said.

Nina rolled her eyes at the ceiling. I sensed from her longsuffering expression that Barry hadn’t been wanted.

‘It’s my house,’ Barry croaked, as if he knew what I was thinking. ‘I built it. I paid for it. It’s supposed to be empty.’

His voice sounded rough and dry, like sandpaper. He had thin lips and a pale, lifeless gaze. His scars reminded me of Danny’s.

‘You!’ Reuben spat. ‘You didn’t pay for this house, I did! And so did Danny Ruiz and Orlando Esteban and Lupe Calleja—’

‘Yes, yes, we’re all aware of that,’ the doctor interrupted. ‘Please, Reuben, this isn’t the time to discuss culpability issues. You should save it for our next meeting.’ He lifted a hand, as if to quell any further protests. ‘This is obviously going to be difficult for everyone, in light of where we are, but there are far more important matters to address than the apportioning of guilt.’

‘Like what?’ Reuben growled.

‘Like that arm, for instance.’ Dr Plackett nodded at Sergio. ‘And Toby’s head.’

‘You should look at Gary, first,’ I cut in. When the doctor raised his eyebrows at me, I added, ‘He’s really bad, you know. He acts like he’s dying.’

Nina sucked air through her teeth. Dr Plackett rounded on Reuben, who yelped, ‘Don’t blame me! I didn’t crash the truck, Gary did!’

‘And it was Danny who made Gary fall downstairs,’ I observed.

‘That’s right. It was Danny’s fault. We’d all be fine, if it wasn’t for Danny,’ Reuben assured the doctor, who shook his head gravely before asking where Gary was.

‘In there.’ I pointed. ‘He’s still breathing, but only just.’

‘You’d better show me,’ the doctor said to Reuben. Together they vanished into the hallway, Dr Plackett carrying his medical bag and Reuben armed with his gun.

After they’d left, there was a brief, awkward silence – which I finally broke when I turned to Barry.

‘So,’ I said, ‘aren’t you the one who set up those tanks downstairs?’

Of course I knew the answer to this question. I just wanted to see him squirm. And he did, too. His eyes skittered away as he hunched his shoulders.

In the end, it was Nina who replied.

‘Barry’s really sorry for what he did,’ she insisted. ‘Aren’t you, Barry?’

He mumbled something.

‘Hang on.’ Sergio was frowning. ‘Are you telling me this is the same guy? The guy who used to run fights here?’

‘Jeez, Sergio, did you only just work that out?’ I scoffed. But I don’t think he heard me. A red flush was slowly creeping across his face.

‘The one who kidnapped Reuben? And Danny?’ he choked.

‘Yeah, but he’s paid for it,’ said Nina. ‘Swear to God, he’d be better off dead.’

It was the weirdest thing to say. What the hell did she mean? I shot her an incredulous look, which seemed to make her uncomfortable.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ she lamely amended. I think Sergio might have asked for more details then, if the sound of raised voices hadn’t distracted us. An argument had erupted in the bedroom. I recognised Reuben’s raised voice, though I couldn’t hear his exact words. Dr Plackett’s sharp retort was pitched a little lower.

‘Oh, man,’ Nina murmured. She sighed as she collapsed onto the last empty chair. Everything about her seemed to droop; her hair, her mouth, her spine . . . everything. Her arms were blue-white, and so skinny that I couldn’t help myself. I just had to ask.

‘Are you sick?’ I blurted out. ‘I mean, are you really sick?’

Thump-thump-thump. Angry footsteps were pounding down the corridor. Nina gave a nod.

‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘I’m really sick.’

‘You mean like cancer?’ Sergio came right out with it, before I could say something a little less goddamn blunt. I scowled at him, just as Dr Plackett entered the room.

‘Now – where’s this staircase?’ he snapped. Seeing that no one else was going to tell him, I gestured at the hatch in the floor.

‘Under there,’ I mumbled. Then Reuben appeared in the doorway.

‘Lincoln’s fine! I told you! We gave him some water!’ cried Reuben. ‘These other guys are much worse off than he is! Sergio’s got a broken arm, for God’s sake!’

‘I doubt that,’ the doctor rejoined. He was moving towards the hatch, but paused long enough to eye Sergio’s makeshift sling. ‘A broken arm is usually a lot more debilitating,’ was his off-the-cuff diagnosis. ‘This is probably a sprain. But I’ll check it in a minute. Along with your head, Toby.’

‘And my foot. My foot hurts too.’ I didn’t bother getting up to help him with the hatch. Though he was so feeble that he couldn’t have managed it all on his own, he didn’t have to; Reuben was with him. And Reuben had no trouble lifting the lid on that shadowy, brick-lined basement. ‘I’ll go first,’ said Reuben, waving his gun. Then he plunged downstairs, closely followed by Dr Plackett. The noise of their bickering was soon overlaid by a jangle of keys.

‘Is that American bloke down there?’ Nina asked, much to my surprise.

‘Yeah,’ I answered. ‘So Reuben told you about him?’

Nina shrugged. ‘He gave us an update on our way over.’

‘Oh. Right.’

This made perfect sense to me, but not to Sergio. ‘Why?’ he demanded. And when Nina and I both stared at him, he said brusquely, ‘Who are you people? Why are you even here? What the hell has this got to do with you, anyway? Are you werewolves, or what?’

If Nina was taken aback, she didn’t show it. Instead she just smiled a sad little smile. ‘I wish,’ she murmured. Again, it was an odd thing to say. I was about to tell her so, but I didn’t get a chance – because all at once Barry lurched to his feet.

‘I’m gunna be sick,’ he groaned. Then he clamped a shaking hand across his mouth.

Nina stiffened.

‘Where’s the bathroom?’ she shot at me.

‘Uh – through there.’ I motioned at the connecting door. ‘Second on your left.’

As Barry stumbled out of the kitchen, he kept bouncing off corners and bumping into furniture. He moved like a drunk man, and I wondered if he might need help. From what I could see, Nina wasn’t about to give him any; she just sat there, watching him stagger out of the room. And Sergio’s only reaction was to pounce on Barry’s vacated chair.

It didn’t seem right that I should have to get up. I mean, I had a sore foot, for God’s sake.

‘Is he gunna be all right?’ I asked, jerking my chin at the door.

‘He’ll live,’ Nina said wearily.

‘Can’t the doctor do anything?’

She shook her head, even more wearily. ‘No.’

‘But if it’s something he ate . . .’

‘It isn’t.’ Nina hesitated, as if she didn’t know whether to go on or not. Her dark eyes searched my face. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

Unfortunately, Sergio bumbled in ahead of her.

‘Speaking of things to eat, did you bring any food?’ he piped up. ‘Like a chocolate bar, maybe?’

Nina blinked. She turned to peer at him, her expression dazed. ‘A chocolate bar?’ she repeated. You’d have sworn that he was speaking in a foreign language.

‘We’re living on pickles! That’s all we’ve got!’ he exclaimed. ‘We’re starving to death!’

‘Oh.’ She put a hand to her cheek. ‘Yes. Of course. Food,’ she muttered. ‘I never thought . . .’

And then, suddenly, the back door burst open.

It was Danny Ruiz.

Surprised? You bet I was. I can’t pretend that I didn’t start, or gasp, or squeak like a mouse. For one thing, Danny was a fearsome sight, what with his scars and his rifle. On top of that, I was still nursing the bump he’d given me. It wasn’t as if we’d parted on good terms.

But at least he wasn’t the mysterious Third Man. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Better the devil you know, I thought.

‘It’s okay,’ I said to Nina, who had uttered a little cry of fear. ‘It’s just Danny. He’s come back.’ I cocked my head at him. ‘Did the truck break down?’ I queried.

Danny didn’t respond. He stepped across the threshold, his coat-tails flapping, his dogs at his heels. The screen door banged shut behind him.

As he scanned the room, I realised that he’d pulled on a pair of jeans, though his chest was still bare.

‘Where’th Reuben?’ he snapped.

‘Downstairs,’ I replied – and this time I made an impression. He rounded on me.

‘Where’th the gun?’

‘The pistol, you mean?’ I felt a twinge of unease. ‘Reuben’s got it.’

Nina tried to introduce herself. ‘I’m Nina,’ she said, rising from her chair. But Danny brushed straight past her, ignoring her outstretched hand. I figured that he must be heading for the basement.

Instead, he slammed the hatch down. Crash! I couldn’t believe my eyes when he started to drag the heavy table across it.

‘What are you doing?’ I yelled. Without a second thought, I sprang out of my seat to stop him. And the pain, of course, knocked me straight back down again. ‘Yeowch! Ah! Ooh!’

The dogs were growling at Nina, their hackles raised. Danny was doing much the same thing; his gun was now trained on her. ‘So what’th your angle? Huh?’ he rasped. ‘What are you up to?’

She lifted her hands, shaking from head to toe. She was much too scared to say anything.

Meanwhile, someone was pounding on the underside of the hatch. But it wouldn’t budge. There was too much weight pushing it down, now that Danny had parked himself on the tabletop.

‘Danny,’ I spluttered, ‘what the hell . . .?’

‘They were in the back of the van.’

‘What?’ I gaped at him.

‘They were in the back of the van. I thaw ’em. I wath out there, watching. Down the road.’ He was squinting along the barrel of his gun; his hands were rock-steady, though the table beneath him kept shaking. (Bang-bang-bang went Reuben’s fists – or was it Dr Plackett hammering on the hatch?) ‘I thought I’d wait till Reuben had gone,’ Danny explained. ‘And then I’d come back and help. I didn’t think he shoulda left ya. Not without a gun.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Sergio squawked. He obviously believed that Danny had been concerned about our welfare.

I didn’t. I figured that Danny had wanted to return when the coast was clear, so he could blast a hole through each of our prisoners.

‘Reuben didn’t drive to Cobar,’ Danny went on. ‘He parked down the road and opened the back of the van. Then he let them out. Her and the other two. And they waited for a while.’

I didn’t understand. ‘You mean—’

‘They were in there all day. In the back of the van.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ I didn’t believe a word of it. ‘That’s impossible.’

‘Athk her,’ said Danny. ‘Go on.’

I turned to Nina, whose dry lips were moving slightly. When she looked back at me, there was something in her dark-ringed eyes that made me wonder.

No, I thought. No, that’s crazy. Danny’s got it wrong.

‘You couldn’t have stayed in the back of that van,’ I argued. ‘Not all day. You would have died in there. It was too hot.’

‘Maybe it’s a refrigerated van,’ Sergio interjected. He might have been joking; I’m not sure. But Nina didn’t tell him to butt out. She seemed lost for words.

So I said, ‘If it was refrigerated, there wouldn’t be enough air. Would there?’ Sergio shrugged. Nina remained speechless. In the silence that followed, Reuben’s muffled voice was faintly audible. ‘. . . out . . . open . . .’

More violent thudding ensued. Danny ignored it.

‘And gueth what?’ he snarled. ‘D’you know who wath in that van with Morticia, here? I’ll tell you who.’ He paused for effect. ‘It wath Barry McKinnon. Barry bloody McKinnon!’

I’m not sure what kind of reaction he was expecting. Shock, maybe. If so, he didn’t get it.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Sergio nodded. ‘We knew that.’

He cringed as Danny’s rifle swung towards him.

‘You what?’ Danny barked.

Sergio raised his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was a tiny thread of sound. ‘He – he told us. I mean, Reuben did . . .’

‘Barry McKinnon built the tankth!’ Danny roared. ‘Didja know that?’

Sergio licked his lips.

‘D’you know what he did to me?’ Danny raved, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. That’s when Nina spoke up, at long last. Don’t ask me why. Maybe she was trying to protect Sergio.

‘He’s very sorry,’ she bleated. ‘Barry’s very sorry for what he did.’

Once again, Danny whirled around. He shoved his rifle at Nina.

‘Oh, he’ll be thorry, all right,’ Danny promised. ‘Now where ith he?’

Nina swallowed. Her hands were still in the air.

‘You – you don’t understand,’ she stammered. ‘He’s already been punished.’

‘Not the way I’m gunna do it.’ Danny was grinding the words out between his teeth. ‘Now tell me where he ith.’

‘He’s in the bathroom,’ I volunteered.

You may be wondering why I said that. You may be thinking, ‘What a weasel!’ But the fact is, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the way Danny was looking at Nina. I did, and I was dead sure of one thing: he wasn’t bluffing. Two more seconds, and he would have beat the answer out of her – or worse.

There was something else, too. I happened to be sitting between Danny and the door, so I knew that, when he ran towards it, I’d have a good chance of stopping him.

I just wanted to get his gun out of Nina’s face.

Yeah, yeah, I know. What a moron. Danny had a loaded rifle and four vicious dogs, and what did I have? An injured foot. Good one, Toby.

Mind you, I did manage to take him by surprise. He probably didn’t think that I could get up at all, let alone grab his gun as he went past. Not that I had a hope of actually getting the gun off him. I just thought that if I could keep him occupied for a few seconds, Nina would have enough time to open the hatch and let Reuben out.

I didn’t factor in the dogs, though. They went straight for me.

‘No! Stop! Get them off!’ Nina screamed, as I staggered backwards. My ankle gave way because the dogs were dragging me down; mostly they were pulling at my jeans, but Psycho had leapt right up and bitten my arm. Snap! It wasn’t really a bad bite. He let go of me the instant I let go of Danny. Still, I was bleeding – and hurting, too. Man, did it hurt! (Dog bites hurt like you wouldn’t believe.)

‘Stop it!’ Nina had picked up a chair. She was using it against the dogs, trying to drive them away. She looked like a lion tamer. ‘Get off! No! Stop!’

By that time, however, the pain had kicked in. And when that happened, I stopped being scared. I got angry instead. I got so angry that I hauled off and punched Psycho straight between the eyes. It was chaos, for a moment. Blood was dripping and dogs were barking and people were yelling and Nina was reeling back, looking sicker than ever. As for Danny, he’d freed himself and was heading for the hallway.

‘Open the hatch!’ I shouted at Nina. She’d dropped her chair, for some reason. Not only that; she’d retreated to the farthest corner of the room, where she was clinging to a benchtop as if she needed propping up.

It was Sergio who came to my rescue. I don’t know why, unless he was afraid that he might be the dogs’ next target. He weighed in and gave Tagger a huge kick, before treading on Mutt’s tail. I had Psycho in a headlock by then, and he was hysterical, thrashing about like a shark on a hook.

‘Nina, will you open the hatch?’ I bawled.

She nearly passed out while she was moving from the sink to the table, but she did it. She got there. In the meantime, I was trying to keep Mutt away from my bad ankle. Sergio was waving a chair at Tagger. Somewhere down the hallway, Danny was bellowing at the top of his voice.

Scr-e-e-e-ech. A heavy piece of furniture scraped across the floor. Nina had leaned against the table and used her weight to slowly, noisily, push it a metre or so to the right. I didn’t see Reuben lunging out of the basement. I was too busy fending off snapping teeth.

But I sure heard him fire his pistol.

bang!

It was so damn loud. Even the dogs froze. For a split second I thought that Reuben had shot someone, until I saw that he’d aimed at the ceiling.

‘geddown!’ he roared. His eyes blazed and his veins throbbed and he stamped his foot at the nearest dog – who happened to be Tagger. When Tagger growled, Reuben growled back.

Mutt was already slinking away. Psycho whimpered. They knew who was top dog in that kitchen.

Then Dr Plackett said faintly, ‘Oh Christ. Is someone bleeding?’

I looked around to discover that he was halfway up the stairs. I had to think for a moment before answering. Was mine the only fresh blood in the room?

‘It’s just a dog bite,’ I croaked. The words were hardly out of my mouth when a terrible scream rent the air. It was coming from down the hallway.

‘Out.’ Dr Plackett wasn’t talking to the dogs. ‘Get out. Quick. Everyone.’

‘Not me,’ said Reuben.

‘Yes, you.’

‘He’s got a gun, Sanford!’

A huge thud made the whole house tremble. There was a distant moan, followed by a series of uneven little thumps.

‘For God’s sake, get out!’ cried Dr Plackett. Psycho was wriggling and whimpering. I had to let him go because Reuben grabbed my arm, hauling me upright.

It was Sergio who first spotted Danny. He yelled and pointed. I turned to look, vaguely aware that Nina was wringing her hands.

Danny stood on the threshold, swaying like a tree in the wind. His lips were blue. His expression was shell-shocked. His neck was streaming blood.

In a faint voice, he said, ‘The rotten bugger bit me.’