Jax figured that by sitting within that fifty-metre range he would at least be protected for four minutes every hour – provided the guard was a skilled marksman. Whoever had decided on green for the inmates’ uniform was either an idiot or a masochist: even Jax would have had difficulty taking a shot with the target almost perfectly camouflaged by the grass.

After a while he moved to what he’d assessed as another safe spot, at the top of the hill, the highest point of the yard. From there, he had a clear line of sight across the field, and he could sit with his back against the fence, meaning he could not be attacked from behind. He was as safe as he could be without his Austeyr.

A silhouette approached. With the sun in his eyes, Jax could only make out the man’s shape and speed: short, slight, slow. Shaggy hair. He estimated the threat to be minimal. The worst of them were out on the field playing league. Still, in his current state – internal bruising, shoulder back in its socket but ligaments stretched and screaming, face a swollen mess – a gust of wind was a threat.

‘How ya doing?’ the man asked. ‘Remember me?’

Jax thought he’d seen the last of this man: 59999. He had left him broken and bloodied on the shower-block tiles.

‘Name’s Johnson,’ he said. ‘Mind if I join?’

Jax couldn’t think of a way to say no.

Johnson groaned as he kneeled, placed his right palm onto the ground to take his weight and lowered himself onto the grass gingerly, wincing as he settled in. Jax could at least relate to that – his own body was still thrumming with pain; it even hurt to breathe.

They sat in an awkward silence until Johnson eventually spoke. ‘Just wanted to see if you’re all right – you look pretty beat up,’ he said. ‘And sorry for telling you to fuck off, you know, the other day.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t do more,’ Jax said.

‘Nah,’ Johnson said. ‘They would have just fucked you up too.’

‘They did anyway,’ Jax said, pointing towards his eye.

‘So it was Marsh?’ Johnson asked. ‘What for?’

Jax remained silent. He had already said too much. In the sunlight, Johnson appeared older than Jax had first thought, at least thirty. Caucasian and free of bikie tats, he didn’t look like he posed a threat, might even be an ally. On the other hand, he could have been sent to find out if Jax was going to snitch.

‘You going to be all right?’ Jax asked.