e landed on all fours, the shock of his fall cushioned by the leaf-mould underfoot. Urged on by the voices behind him, he scrambled up the hill, but not very far, aware that he was at his most vulnerable while running blindly. Crouching beneath a cluster of trees that blotted out the pale moonlight, he sent a probing Call into the surrounding gloom. What he detected made him go cold with fright: for close at hand, far closer than he had expected, something was watching him; a creature whose mind was obsessed with a single idea. Hunger. Its own hunger. Everything else excluded. Its eyes, seemingly unhampered by the darkness, fixed upon the pale human figure that crouched in the deep shadows near by.

On the verge of panic, Ben rose to his feet. But even that slight movement produced a rumbling snarl, followed by the sound of a heavy body brushing through the undergrowth. He caught a brief glimpse of a huge tawny head, of amber eyes glinting in the moonlight. And all at once his nerve failed. In blind, thoughtless terror, he turned and began clawing his way through the bush, driving himself up the slope, expecting at every step to feel a massive paw tearing at his head and shoulders. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the voice of common sense persisted, telling him to stop, to protect himself in the manner he knew best; but he was too frightened to pay it any heed.

Still in a state of panic, he burst out into the open and saw, to his left, a pathway and a flight of steps. Hardly breaking stride, he ran up the steps to a spot where several paths met. There, for the first time, he paused and glanced back: the stairs up which he had come were empty, and when he listened, all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. Again he probed the darkness. To his dismay, he discovered that the creature had circled around him and now lay in wait a short distance ahead. Nor was it alone. Another, similar mind, only slightly less cold and hard, also watched and waited.

Ben’s initial instinct was to blot them out, as if by so doing he could reduce them to the level of a bad dream that could be banished by the act of waking. But there was nothing dreamlike about the way the bushes parted, the two creatures stalking out into the open. He could see what they were now. Tigers. One, a lean sinewy female; the other, a huge male, each of his front paws larger than a person’s head. They advanced slowly, tails twitching; and Ben, mesmerised by their cool dispassionate gaze, could only stand, transfixed, staring back at them.

The spell was broken by a rumbling snarl, the male’s ears suddenly flattening, his snout crinkling up as the beautifully striped cheeks lifted away from the long pale canines.

‘No!’ Ben shouted, his hands jerking up before him in a futile gesture of defence, his mind automatically sending out a frantic danger warning.

It was that wordless signal which stopped them, both animals balking only a few paces from where Ben stood. He repeated the same warning, and this time the female backed off slightly. But not the male. Swinging his head from side to side, he roared his bewilderment out into the night, his rank breath like a gust of hot wind on Ben’s face.

‘Go!’ Ben Called, trying to order them away, but the silent command was too lacking in conviction to be effective. Faced with so much savage power, all he could think of was escape, of somehow reaching the low wall and the gap in the barbed wire. He had forgotten Chas’s threat about what might happen if he turned back. At that moment the wall and the human beings on the other side conveyed to him only the idea of safety. All that kept him rooted to this one spot was the sure knowledge that if he turned and ran, those vast paws would destroy him.

So he stood there, unmoving, caught up in a strange, unnerving form of stalemate, with the male tiger continuing to roar at him. Had that situation gone on much longer, there could have been only one result – Ben’s resolve already wilting beneath that defiant gaze. But from the darkness up ahead there came a sound of rapid footsteps, someone small and light running towards him.

‘Over here!’ he called desperately, making the mistake of taking his eyes from the menacing head.

It was only a momentary lapse of concentration, yet enough for the tiger to glide forward and strike at him, the huge paw just missing his face, the wind of its passage fanning his cheek so that he fell back, both arms curled protectively about his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadowy figure which, in his fear, he mistook for the female tiger, also closing in on him.

‘No!’ he signalled desperately, ‘no!’

And almost simultaneously, someone said aloud, ‘Back Raja, back. Ranee, back’ – the words soothing and gentle, more of an appeal than a command.

Afterwards, he had no doubt that it was that softly spoken appeal which saved him, though at the time he felt only a flood of relief at finding himself still alive. He looked up and saw that the tigers had sidled away; saw also that a young Aboriginal girl was standing close to him. She was about his own age, but much smaller, at least a head shorter than himself, with thin, stick-like arms and legs, and skin and hair so black that they almost merged into the background darkness.

‘Where are the others?’ she asked, all the gentleness gone from her voice now.

‘Others?’

‘Your mates, where are they?’

‘I’m on my own. I only . . .’

She clicked her tongue and the male tiger, pacing restlessly to and fro, rumbled out a threatening growl.

‘Hang on!’ he protested. ‘They sent me in and told me to run. I don’t know any more than that!’

She crouched beside him and looked searchingly into his face – her own face, he noticed, distinctly young and smooth, marred only by a line of worry that creased her forehead. ‘You sure?’ she asked. ‘Because if you’re lying . . .’

‘I’m not lying. I swear! They didn’t even tell me about the tigers. I just heard this growl and then they pushed me through the gap in the wire.’

‘So they’re not your mates?’

He shook his head.

‘But they are out there now?’

‘Yes, down by the wall.’ He turned and pointed in the direction of the harbour. ‘And more of them along the lower fence.’

She stood up slowly, obviously undecided, her even white teeth biting at her lip. The male tiger, meanwhile, had again ceased his restless pacing and was glowering at Ben dangerously.

‘Listen,’ he said intently, ‘you’ve got to believe me! They made me help them. I didn’t want to. Not after . . .after the way they killed . . .’ But even then, in that situation, he could not bring himself to say it.

She nodded, responding more to the emotion in his voice than to the actual words. ‘Okay,’ she said, more kindly. ‘Wait here for a while. I won’t be long. Whatever happens don’t move or make a noise, because there’s more than these tigers on the loose.’

She gave him no chance to argue. With a soft click of her tongue she ran off down the steps, the two tigers loping after her. Left alone, Ben crawled into the cover of the nearest bushes and waited, his eyes nervously searching the shadows, his ears alert to the faintest noise. But nothing else ventured near and she was soon back, alone this time, running effortlessly up the steps.

‘Quick!’ she said urgently. ‘We have to get well clear. Once they start I won’t be able to control them.’

‘Start what?’

‘I can’t explain. Just hurry!’

Ben leaped to his feet, thinking he would easily catch up with her, but even at his fastest he could barely match her pace, her thin legs carrying her rapidly along the maze of winding paths. Although he had often visited the Zoo with his parents, years before, he soon had only the vaguest idea of where they were, the route they were taking leading steadily uphill, past the gaunt outline of wire cages and dark, closed-up buildings.

‘Where’re we heading?’ he called breathlessly.

Her reply was cut short by an agonised scream which came from directly behind him, though some distance down the hill.

‘What was that?’ he asked, stopping in the middle of the pathway.

She looked back, her expression veiled by the shadows that fell across her face. ‘I told you, once they start there’s no stopping them. We could be next if we’re not careful.’

‘Us?’

Another terrible scream, closer and slightly to his left, rang out.

‘Yes, us,’ she said, her voice low, almost expressionless. ‘It’s the smell. They go for anyone after they’ve scented it.’

‘You mean . . .blood?’

She made no reply, standing there looking at him.

‘Are you telling me those tigers are killing the men down there?’ he burst out.

‘Not just the tigers.’

‘But that’s why you led them off?’ he insisted.

‘I thought those blokes weren’t your friends!’ she flared back.

‘To go and kill them like that!’

She walked hurriedly towards him, her face, streaked with moonlight, looking sad and tired. ‘If it wasn’t for the animals,’ she said, her voice tightly controlled, ‘what do you reckon the men would do to us? Haven’t you worked out why they put you through the wire?’

He knew what she said made sense, but the whole situation was too much like – again he shied away from the memory: the dog’s dying scream still too vivid.

‘But they’re human beings,’ he objected, ‘not animals’ -realizing as he spoke that he was no longer accusing her: merely justifying himself. ‘And their bodies! If we leave them down there . . .’

‘It was their choice,’ she said regretfully, making no attempt now to hide her true feelings. ‘They understood what they were coming into. There’s nothing we can do to help them.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said, slipping her hand through his arm. ‘Now come on. Please. It’s not safe here.’

She pulled gently and he allowed himself to be led away, the two of them continuing along the paths.

Once more, before they could find a place of safety, a dying scream disturbed the night, but this time he didn’t slow down, running with his hands over his ears, his shoulders hunched forward defensively.

When they finally stopped he recognised the place immediately. A large rambling building – made mainly of wood and with a red-tiled roof – it had once been the restaurant and shop as well as housing the information offices. Now it was sunk in darkness, the long front windows shuttered from within. The girl approached the front door and tapped lightly. There were furtive footsteps inside and a man’s voice asked, ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me, Ellie.’

The door opened a crack and she slipped through, drawing Ben after her.

‘What the hell!’

The shout of surprise came from a young man at the door. He was tall and lean-featured, with jet-black hair. Before Ellie could try to explain, he pounced on Ben and pinned both arms behind him.

‘What’s this then?’ he asked accusingly, driving his knee painfully into Ben’s back.

‘No, leave him, Steve!’ Ellie said quickly. ‘He’s not with the others. He was just bait, to keep Raja off.’

‘Says who?’

‘Me. I’ve been down there.’

‘So why’d you bring him back? If he’s bait, then let the cats have him.’

He made as if to re-open the door, but Ellie barred his way. ‘He hasn’t done anything, Steve! Really.’

‘Clear out or you’ll join him.’

‘At least tell Molly. Let her decide.’

He took one hand off Ben and lunged at her, his bare knuckles crashing against the wooden panelling as she slipped beneath his arm.

‘What’s going on over there?’ a woman’s voice called indignantly.

‘I’ll fix you one of these days, Ellie,’ Steve muttered.

But he made no further attempt to throw Ben out. Still holding him firmly, he pushed him past a flight of wooden stairs and across a wide, shadowy room towards the serving bay of the restaurant. A large, slightly overweight woman was sitting on the counter. She was in her mid-thirties, with blonde hair and a hard attractive face. There was a telephone and a kerosene pressure lamp beside her.

‘Where’d that come from?’ she said shortly speaking of Ben as if he were some lifeless object.

‘Ellie brought him back,’ Steve answered. ‘Says they were using him as bait.’

She turned her hard green eyes towards the young Aboriginal girl. ‘D’you think you’re indispensable or something?’ she asked softly.

Ellie grew suddenly nervous, both bare feet shuffling on the smooth floor. ‘No, Molly, I was only . . .’

‘Because if you do, I’ll be glad to prove how wrong you are.’

‘I’m sorry, Molly’ – eyes downcast, her feet still now.

‘Right. So just remember in future, this isn’t a welfare society. We don’t take in the leftovers that rabble out there push over the fence.’

‘That’s what I told her,’ Steve said. ‘Shall I chuck him out?’

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘No, not yet.’ She looked directly at Ben for the first time. ‘You, what’s your name?’

He tried to stare back defiantly but there was an unyielding quality about her face that daunted him and, like Ellie, he also dropped his gaze.

‘Ben,’ he said uneasily.

‘Tell me, Ben, how many of them are trying to break in?’

‘I’m not sure. Quite a lot I think.’

She nodded. ‘That’s my feeling too.’ She patted the telephone beside her and turned back to Steve. ‘By the sound of things, the cats’ve probably got more than enough to do at the moment. Perhaps it’d be better for him to stick around here for a while.’

‘Yeah, that’s not a bad idea,’ Steve conceded. ‘Shall I put him upstairs?’

‘No, leave him here where I can keep an eye on him.’

Steve gave his arm a final wrench and then shoved him away so violently that he crashed against the counter and slid onto the floor. But for the moment he didn’t care – the tight knot of anxiety which had been there in the pit of his stomach ever since Chas had forced him through the wire, at last beginning to ease.

‘You mean he can stay?’ Ellie asked hopefully.

Molly stretched lazily. ‘You were the one who referred to him as bait, Ellie, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, haven’t you ever been fishing?’

‘With my dad, before . . .’ She corrected herself quickly. ‘A long time ago.’

‘And what did you do with your spare bait at the end of the day?’

Ellie didn’t answer, her bare feet again beginning their nervous shuffling.

‘Don’t you remember?’

Still she remained silent, and Ben, watching her, felt the knot of anxiety reforming in his stomach.

‘Then I’ll jog your memory,’ Molly said with mock pleasantness. ‘You throw it in the water. It’s no good to you any more, so you give the fish a free feed.’