As she looked up to watch the light turn green, out of the corner of her eye she saw the man on the motorcycle throw something towards her. It sailed through the window just before it closed completely, flew past her and landed on the front passenger seat, almost as though in slow motion.

His back tyre screeched and then he was gone, just a cloud of smoke and a serving of spent rubber left behind. She was frozen with fear.

Beep! Beep!

She heard the honking, looked in her rear-view mirror and saw the angry woman gesturing wildly, but it didn’t register.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

She shook her head and snapped to, jammed the accelerator and took off through the intersection and onto the highway What the hell had just happened? She told herself it was nothing. Just some random arsehole. Another weirdo. The city was full of them.

But as she sped along, just under the speed limit, she glanced towards the passenger seat.

What was it? What had he thrown?

Whatever it was, it had rolled under a pile of junk. McDonald’s wrappers, coffee cups, a hoodie and a reusable green bag. And those were just the things that she could see.

Just rubbish? Most likely. That seemed right. Another arsehole in this city full of arseholes. But her heart was pounding and she was struggling to grip the steering wheel, so sweaty were her palms. She had to know.

‘You’ve gone mad,’ she said to herself as she hit the brake and worked down through the gears: five, four, three, two, one. ‘Fucking crazy,’ she said as she pulled into the emergency stopping lane. Cars whizzed past; the highway would not stop to help. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over, began to dig through the debris.

‘Damn it,’ she said as she found only mess.

She started heaving items over the bucket seat and into the back: a gym bag, a jumper and a spent sundae tossed onto the rear seat. Eventually she methodically removed all of her items, one by one. Then she stared at the only object that remained: a small cylinder of lead. It looked a lot bigger than the bullets she’d seen in movies. A lot scarier too. She didn’t want to touch it; she had a feeling that it might explode. But she had to. As much as she was afraid, she needed to know if it was real.

She reached over and grabbed it between her thumb and forefinger, as if less flesh touching it would help. It didn’t explode and it wasn’t burning, not even warm. But it was heavy and it was real. And it was terrifying. Not because of the weight, or the hardness of the metal, but because of what was written on it. Inscribed, seemingly by a proper engraver, were three letters: J, A and X.

CHAPTER 14

Long Bay Correctional Complex, Sydney, NSW, Australia