Hirsch ran back to his Toyota and reached for the radio: the handset cord dangled, cut cleanly. He ran in circles for a mobile signal, called Sergeant Brandl, then hauled out the jack and spare tyre. The jack slipped; the nuts felt glued on; situating the spare was like wrestling a fridge onto a trailer. Knuckles barked, blood and grease on his hands, he lost thirty minutes. Then he was opening the driver’s door again, heat pouring out, the seat burning hot. He fumbled the key into the ignition, cranked the aircon to high and planted his foot. Everything about his take-off seemed clumsy: weak aircon, sluggish acceleration.

Then he was out on the road, trying to coax speed out of a vehicle designed for endurance. He called Redruth again: two cars had been dispatched to his location; a roadblock had been set up in the town.

‘But he could be headed for Broken Hill, sarge.’

‘I’ll notify Peterborough.’

A few minutes later he topped a rise overlooking a broad, shallow basin, like a giant claypan. Was it his imagination or was there a lingering dust haze from the long-departed Audi? He’ll be on the Barrier Highway by now, Hirsch thought. Not mad enough to head south, surely. He steered along the road’s slow curve through the depression and out the other side.

The minutes passed. The sun, dropping behind the Razorback, cast him in shadow for a couple of minutes. And then he was on the final stretch to the Barrier Highway with no sign of the Audi.

He turned north, figuring if the man calling himself McAuliffe had turned south, he’d run into the Redruth cars or the roadblock. Two kilometres, three, four, the highway empty, nothing along the farm tracks or minor roads. And then, as he passed the Booborowie turnoff, he saw the Audi a hundred metres in, parked at an odd angle. He braked, reversed, sped down to it.

McAuliffe had overshot a slight bend. The car was nose-down, cocked over, in a culvert. The trouble with you city boys, Hirsch thought—don’t know how to drive on dirt. Never throw a vehicle into a corner, you’ll lost traction. He pulled over, switched off, reported to Redruth and stepped onto the road. About to unholster his pistol, he thought, petrol, and ran for the SUV.