She settled back into her soft brown leather seat, scavenged from a luxury SUV of some type. The ride was much smoother today, no doubt to the eternal relief of the private rubbing his forehead in the passenger seat up front, who looked like a bullet for breakfast would not have been a bad idea. Each time the radio beeped with traffic, the young man grunted, picked up the hand mike and groaned out a response. Sergeant Milosz ignored him.

Unable to talk openly, Caitlin and Musso were content to listen to the Polish NCO as he gave them chapter and verse on the adventures of his brother’s family on a farm in the Federal Mandate.

‘Is supposed to be cattle farm,’ explained Milosz. ‘But niece has rescued baby lamb and raised it as a puppy because my brother will not have dog in the house. And yet, he allows the sheep, which now goes by the name of Vince, to wander around wherever it pleases. It sits on the couch. Sleeps on children’s bed. And sneaks behind the lounge for purpose of stealthy farting, just like a dog. But with misadvantages of not being trained properly to be in house, and leaving little round pebbles of sheep shit everywhere. Including in my room when I visit. I say to brother and wife they should get rid of this Vince. But they tell me the children love him. I would love him too, with mint sauce and baked potatoes. But does anybody listen to Milosz? No, nobody ever listens to Milosz.’

‘We’re listening,’ said Caitlin from the back seat as they rolled through well-tended fields. The overcast weather of the previous day had cleared, and although it was still cold, the sun shone down hard and bright.

‘Has your family had any problems with the state government?’ she asked as they passed a collection of residences called Cimarron Park. They didn’t appear to be occupied, but a lot of work had gone into keeping down the vegetation and preserving the buildings, giving the impression of a newly built housing estate.

‘Not problems for my brother Radoslaw, no,’ Milosz called back over his shoulder. ‘Resettlement people put them into new strategic village as soon as they arrive and when I visit I have helped them to improve defences. They have seen no road agents. But other families who have been longer tell Radoslaw that agents are fewer now. Have been much smaller pain in ass for maybe three months. Maybe four.’

Musso leaned forward to be heard over the engine noise.

‘Whereabouts are your family based, Sergeant?’

‘They are with six families in strategic village built in old town called Richards. Is north of Houston. Many bandits in there. Radoslaw tells me it was almost as bad as New York for a while. Until the TDF kicked them out.’

‘And the TDF, your brother is happy with the security they provide?’