And then, finally, I hear a noise at the door, and it opens slightly. There is bright daylight in a thin line across the floor. I brace myself, but try to look half-asleep and pathetic. I groan as if still in pain. The light is too bright.

Ben’s voice says, ‘You can go.’

I think I’ve heard it wrong, but he says it again to make sure: ‘You can go, leave, go home.’

The door swings wide open, but no one shows themselves. I walk out, shielding my eyes, looking around to see what is going on. I guess the evidence has disappeared, and all I can try for is kidnapping or something. Deprivation of liberty? Isn’t that a thing?

Outside, Ben is watching, standing well back with a rifle casually hanging over one arm. Behind him is a guy who might be ‘Sergei’ from the races, but I am in no condition to tell. Ben tosses me my phone, and I drop it and then pick it up. The screen tells me it is Wednesday, 10.00 am. I have been here for something like forty-eight hours. There is a message from Marko, and two missed calls from him, and one from Ralph.

Ben waves the barrel at my ute, and says, ‘It’s working. The radiator was pushed onto the fan. We fixed it.’

I walk towards my ute. My head is fuzzy, but still a question makes its way through: Isn’t he concerned I’ll run him down? Or is that what he wants?

I get into my ute, and fire it up. He watches me, but doesn’t move or talk or gesture. I drive away through the paddocks, and out through the front ramp. I can’t feel anything, and I can hardly hold the road. It takes a lifetime to get home.