t was thirst which drove him from the boat. In the middle of the afternoon, too parched to sleep, he slipped quietly over the side and waded ashore, intending to search for water. As far as he could tell there was no one about, the overgrown park warm and still in the bright sunlight. But no sooner was he clear of the beach, pushing his way through the tall grass, than he heard a quick light tread and, before he could turn, an arm encircled his neck and he was dragged backwards.

‘Got you!’ a voice whispered, the words breathed into his ear.

Oddly, in the first moment of capture, he experienced neither terror nor disappointment. If anything, he felt only a mild sense of relief, that this should have happened at last, removing the burden of what to do next.

‘You’re choking me!’ he gasped.

The pressure on his throat eased and the arm withdrew, replaced instantly by the cool touch of a knife blade on the side of his neck. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but the knife followed him, nicking his flesh so that a drop of blood ran down onto his chest.

‘You got the message?’ the voice asked quietly.

He nodded and caught a glimpse, at the very edge of his vision, of a thin undernourished face, identical to one he had encountered on the bridge the night before, the features sharp and ratlike.

‘You sure about that?’ The pressure of the knife increased slightly.

‘No, don’t . . .please . . .’ he stammered, acting out the same cringing role he had always used with Greg.

‘That’s better,’ the voice murmured, gratified. ‘Now let’s have some introductions. Name of Trev. And you?’

‘Ben.’

‘Right, Ben. Time for a little walk.’

Guided by a hand that grasped him by the scruff of the neck, he stumbled forward, soon crossing the parkland and emerging into a series of steep, overgrown streets. Here as elsewhere, the houses were run-down and vandalised. Shoved roughly from behind, Ben was steered through a jungle-like garden and up the front steps of a dilapidated cottage set well back from the road.

‘In there,’ Trev said shortly, indicating an open doorway.

The cool pressure of the knife was removed and he stepped hesitantly inside. After the glare of the sunlight he could see very little, only a few uncertain forms hovering in the shadows.

‘There you are, Chas,’ Trev said confidently, ‘told you I’d get him.’

‘How d’you know he’s the one?’ someone asked.

‘He’s the one all right, no worries.’

As his eyes accustomed themselves to the half-light, he took stock of his surroundings. He was standing in a shabbily furnished room, the windows boarded up, a few strands of sunlight stealing through the cracks between the boards. A number of young men were lounging in old chairs or sitting with their backs against the side walls, watching him. They were all in their early twenties, most of them thin and hollow-eyed, like Trev. There was only one exception: a short, thick-set figure, the sleeves of his denim shirt cut off at the shoulders, revealing powerful arms. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, he was still wearing the woollen balaclava that Ben remembered from the previous night. He came towards Ben now and stood facing him, barely a pace away, his small close-set eyes and the bristly upper portion of his cheeks showing through the balaclava opening.

‘You the kid on the bridge last night?’ he asked.

‘What bridge?’

A hand shot out and slapped him hard across the side of the head.

‘Steady on, Chas,’ Trev called, and laughed, ‘you don’t want to damage him. Not a valuable bit of meat like that.’

There was more laughter, only the man called Chas not joining in.

‘Let’s try again,’ he said. ‘You the one we chased?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Now just tell me this: how’d you make the dog stand the way it did?’

Ben thought quickly. ‘I got him when he was a pup,’ he lied, ‘years ago, before Last D– . . .’

Again the hand shot out, cutting the word off short. ‘We don’t talk about that here,’ Chas said gruffly.

Ben held his hand to his stinging cheek. ‘I had him a long time,’ he continued. ‘I trained him.’

‘You see,’ Trev broke in, ‘I said we shouldn’t have killed it. With him and the dog together, working as a team, we could have pulled it off for sure.’

‘We’ll manage it anyway,’ Chas answered. ‘You saw him move: he ran the legs off us. Even on his own he can give us all the time we need.’

‘When do we try?’ one of the other men asked.

‘Tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Trev interrupted again. ‘But there’s a moon! Shouldn’t we wait till later?’

Chas brushed past Ben, both fists clenched. ‘Didn’t I try it in the dark?’ he said angrily. ‘Before you even got here? The night so black you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. But he saw me all right. Oh yeah, clear as bloody day. That’s how I got this!’ He pointed at the balaclava covering his head. ‘So don’t go telling me when’s the best time.’

Trev had retreated nervously towards the door. ‘Sorry, Chas. Honest. I was only trying to help.’

‘You want to help? Then lock the kid up at the back. Give him some food and drink – much as he wants.’

‘But . . .’

‘And for Chrissake stop arguing! It’s only the once, you know that. And we need him in good nick if we’re going to have a chance.’

Ben allowed himself to be led over to the door; but just as he was being ushered out, he stopped and turned. ‘What do you need me for?’ he asked.

The eyes, all that he could see of Chas’s face, crinkled up in a knowing smile. ‘Oh you needn’t worry about that. You’ll find out when the time comes. They always do.’

Before he could reply Trev pushed him roughly through the doorway; and to the general sound of laughter, he walked slowly down the narrow passage.

They let him out of the darkened room at sunset. Just as he was walking back along the passage he again heard that savage cry which always greeted the night, the strong tones reaching out across the silence towards him. Here, so close to the source of that cry, it sounded more defiant, more wild and free, than ever, and he stopped in mid-stride, puzzled by it. Now that he knew where it came from, it simply didn’t make sense. Why should any animal still held captive in Taronga Zoo give vent to so passionate a feeling of freedom night after night?

On impulse, he turned towards Trev who was standing impatiently behind him. ‘Are you taking me to the Zoo?’ he asked. ‘Is that what you need me for?’

Trev eyed him suspiciously, his pointed nose thrust forward, his pink-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly in the poor light. ‘You been around here before?’ he answered.

‘No.’

‘Then why’re you so interested in the Zoo?’

Ben hesitated. ‘I . . .I think there’s something still in there . . .something big maybe. Any idea what it is?’

Trev’s only answer was to grab him by the hair and drag him forcibly into the front room. A single candle was burning in the far corner, the room now empty except for Chas. He turned as they entered, his face still masked by the balaclava.

‘We’ve got a funny one here, Chas,’ Trev told him.

‘Why, what’s up?’

‘He already knows something about the Zoo.’

‘How much?’

‘Hard to say. But we’d better find out before . . .’

His voice trailed away as Chas sauntered across the room and grasped Ben’s cheek between thumb and forefinger, twisting the skin until his eyes watered.

‘About the Zoo,’ he said menacingly, ‘you don’t happen to come from in there, do you?’

Ben shook his head, his whole face screwed up with pain. There was a pause, the fingers tightening, biting deeper into the flesh.

‘And the set-up over there?’ Chas added. ‘What d’you know about that?’

‘Nothing,’ Ben answered, his mouth so pulled out of shape that the words came out blurred and indistinct. The fingers relaxed their grip and he went on quickly, ‘I heard something this morning, that’s all, when I was hiding in the boat. Animal noises.’

Chas released him and looked at Trev. ‘That’s possible, isn’t it?’

‘They’d have closed up shop by then,’ Trev answered doubtfully. ‘The big stuff would’ve been in anyway.’

‘But it’s possible?’

‘I suppose it’s possible. Even so . . .’

Chas waved one hand impatiently. ‘Then we’ll stick to the plan. I don’t reckon he’s from in there, that’s the main thing, so there’s no worry about an ambush. The rest doesn’t matter.’

‘How’d you make that out?’

‘Because once he’s inside, he’s on his own. What he knows or doesn’t know won’t help him that much.’ He clicked his fingers disdainfully and returned to the far side of the room where he picked up a rifle, left leaning against the wall, and tucked a torch into his belt. ‘You ready?’ he inquired.

But Trev, still doubtful, lingered by the inner door, a detaining hand on Ben’s arm. ‘I don’t like it,’ he murmured sulkily. ‘Couldn’t we wait a day or two?’

Chas glanced towards him. ‘Your trouble, Trev,’ he said with a short laugh, ‘is that you worry too much. You’re like a mouse running round and round a piece of cheese, too scared to eat it.’

‘If I’m a mouse,’ Trev retaliated unexpectedly, ‘what does that make you? Not a cat, that’s for sure.’

There was a sudden, tense silence. Ben, who understood little of what was being said, felt the hand gripping his bare arm tighten, the fingers hot with fear.

‘Would someone mind letting me . . .’ he began, and stopped as he saw the look in Chas’s eyes.

‘I’d like to make a suggestion,’ Chas said at last, his voice fallen to a whisper. ‘How about if you take the kid’s place?’

The hand on Ben’s arm tightened even further. ‘No, Chas, not that. I didn’t mean anything.’

There was another period of silence, briefer, but no less tense.

‘All right, Trev, we’ll let it go this time. But I hope for your sake this works tonight. Because if it doesn’t, you’re next up. That’s a promise.’

He extinguished the candle and led the way out into the heavy dusk, the three of them walking in single file, Ben between the two men. They took the same route Ben had followed that morning, but when they reached the park they turned and made for the strip of thick bush which hugged the shoreline. A lean figure, in the motionless stance of a sentry, was waiting there for them.

‘Everyone in position?’ Chas asked quietly.

‘Yeah, all ready.’

Chas turned to Ben and laid the cool barrel of the rifle across his cheek. ‘You stay close to me. And not a sound. Understand?’

‘Okay.’

Still in single file, they entered the gloom of the bush. Animal noises, coming from the hillside on their left, disturbed the silence; while on their right, through occasional gaps in the trees, Ben caught glimpses of the wind-ruffled surface of the harbour. The path they were following led them around to the wharf where the ferries carrying passengers to the Zoo had once berthed. The burned-out skeleton of a ferry lay in the shallows and the wharf itself leaned at a crazy angle, some of its wooden piles burned through. But the bitumen road which started opposite the wharf was still in good condition. It ran between the shore and an almost vertical cliff-face and then curved up and around the bush-covered hillside which contained Taronga Zoo. Even in the pale light of the newly risen moon, Ben could see figures stationed along the road. As he watched, two of them padded across the smooth black surface and began scaling the cliff-face, climbing slowly up to the line of bush above.

‘Are we going up there?’ he asked nervously.

Chas again laid the rifle barrel against his cheek, less gently this time, jarring him backwards. ‘No,’ he hissed in reply, ‘that’s just insurance.’

‘Insurance?’

The rancid-smelling balaclava moved closer to his face. ‘This road here marks the lower edge of the Zoo. Those men are climbing up to the fence. Like everyone else, they’ll be making sure you don’t take any short cuts.’

Before Ben could ask what that meant, Chas moved off along the road, and he had no option but to hurry after him. In total silence they passed the lower exit – an old square-columned building, the main archway and smaller gates now blocked off – and followed the road for a short distance.

‘This is the place,’ Chas muttered, ‘where the bastard’ll be waiting.’ And he turned off into the bush on his left.

Ben, hard on his heels, groped his way up a short steep rise and found himself at the base of a low wall. Set into the top of the wall were upright, inward-leaning metal stanchions; with thick strands of barbed wire stretched between them.

‘You got those snips?’ Chas whispered.

Trev shouldered Ben aside and began cutting through the wire, strand by strand, the blades making a sharp clicking sound as they snapped together. Within a few minutes there was a gap big enough for someone to crawl through.

‘Right,’ Chas whispered to Ben, ‘this is where you do your stuff. When I give the word, you get through that hole and run diagonally across the hillside.’ He pointed to a star, low in the sky, to indicate the general direction. ‘There’ll be cages and things in your way, so fix your eyes on that star or you’ll be running round in circles. If you move fast enough, you might make it across the hill to the fence on the far side. Whatever happens, don’t try and get out anywhere else. My men’ll be on the lookout, and they’ll just send you back . . .or worse. Now, have you got all that?’

Ben, crouched close to the wall, looked at the two shapes huddled beside him. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, bewildered. ‘What am I supposed to be doing?’

‘Just running.’

‘Yes, but what for?’

‘Your life.’

‘You’ve told him enough, Chas,’ Trev cut in quietly.

But Ben, in a sudden rush of understanding, had already grasped why he had been brought to this spot. As in a dream, he had a vivid impression of a sunlit hillside, with a young dingo peering at him through tall, tufted heads of grass. Yet those amber eyes no longer regarded him with trust. It was as if the gaze of the dead animal were at last demanding vengeance, for itself and all who had shared its fate – with Ben’s life now in peril, here on this darker hillside. The roles of hunter and hunted curiously reversed.

‘I’m a sort of decoy, aren’t I?’ he said forlornly.

‘That’s about it.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘I wouldn’t advise that.’ The rifle was raised, its black silhouette unmistakable agaist the night sky.

‘All right,’ Ben answered quietly, ‘but at least tell me what I’ll be running away from.’

‘It wouldn’t help you even if you knew.’

‘I’d still like you to tell me.’

Chas gave a soft chuckle. ‘I’ll do better than tell you,’ he murmured. He took the torch from his waist and shone the beam on his masked head. Grasping the bottom of the balaclava, he pulled it up, revealing the lower half of his face. It was horribly mutilated, with one ear missing, the mouth torn out of shape, the chin and neck deformed by long raking scars. ‘This is what you’re running away from, Kid,’ he said, and laughed.

Ben flinched back, horrified, as the torch clicked off. ‘What could do a thing like that to you?’

By way of answer, there was a deep, full-throated growl from the bush on the far side of the wall. Ben turned, as if to scramble back down the hillside, but strong hands grasped and lifted him towards the gap in the wire. A barbed strand ripped the side of his shirt; and then, despite his frantic resistance, he was through. As he pitched forward into the alien darkness, his arms stretched out to break his fall, a voice half-shouted, ‘Run, Kid, run!’