Doubling back, they crept back up the hill and wriggled under a patch of ferns in the pines, from where they could see the main entrance to the cave. They didn’t have to wait long: a weedy little man with a thin beard walked slowly up to the cave, dressed in patchy jeans and a blue woollen jumper.

‘That’s one of Doble’s guys,’ whispered Butch.

The man glanced around, then ducked inside the cave.

Butch and Murphy slithered out from their hiding place and each grabbed a heavy pine branch.

‘Don’t intervene, Murph,’ said Butch, his voice full of a hardness Murphy hadn’t heard in a long time. ‘Let me handle this.’

‘Butch?’

‘I’m serious. You don’t think Doble’s the reason people are pinning this on you? Let’s not give him anything.’ He tightened his grip on the branch. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if Doble was the one behind whatever’s happened to Jasmine.’

‘Butch . . .’ said Murphy. He needed to tell Butch the truth about the girls’ plan, sooner rather than later.

The weedy man came stumbling back out into the light, looking around, his cap dislodged.

His confusion turned to fear when he saw Murphy and Butch.

‘Didn’t find what you were looking for?’ said Butch.

The man shrank back, raising his hands. ‘Easy, fellas. I’m just out on a walk.’

‘You were looking for our crop,’ Butch said, walking forward. ‘Doble sent you.’

The man stumbled back, feet slipping and falling on his backside. ‘Don’t touch me! He’ll get you if you do!’

Butch growled, low in his throat. ‘Fuck me, I’m tired of this.’ He smacked the branch into his open palm and stood over the man. ‘Tell Doble that the next man he sends will end up even worse than you.’

He slammed the branch into the man’s face. His nose cracked and blood came pouring out. ‘It won’t happen again. I swear it,’ he squealed, putting his hands to his face to stem the bleeding. ‘I’ll tell him!’

‘That’ll be hard with two broken legs.’ Butch lifted the branch high over his head, but Murphy held him back.

‘Butch,’ he warned.

‘Stay out of this, Murph.’

The man scrambled to his feet and raced off into the bush, blood on his shirt and running down his arms.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ snarled Butch. He shoved Murphy away.

‘You were actually going to break his legs.’ Murphy stepped back. ‘And how was he going to get back down after that? Were you going to carry him?’

Butch swung the branch underhand like a cricket bat. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Murphy. ‘You go check the crop. I’ll stay here in case he comes back with some mates.’

‘Butch,’ warned Murph.

‘Just go,’ hissed Butch.