Wilde eased the throttle and feathered the brakes. Not hard enough to stop but to slow down a fraction, just as he entered the bend, hugging the inside track against the rock face. The black truck was entering from the parallel side of the hairpin. Wilde had one chance, and it had to be timed to perfection. His eyes met the wide, frowning eyes of the driver of the black truck, then he bluffed and slid left, to the wrong side of the road, just as the oncoming truck made a swerve the other way, as if to hit the jeep and crush it into the rock face.

The offside panels of the jeep scraped and sparked against the side of the black truck. The nearside wheels of the jeep were almost completely over the cliff edge. A mere one or two centimetres of rubber gripped the road, throwing up dust and stones in a billowing fog.

Wilde held the line.

The black truck’s tail moved off centre, a reaction to the driver’s sudden swerve inwards, pushing the jeep to the edge. Wilde’s rear nearside tyre lost contact with the road, hung out out over nothingness. Only momentum kept the vehicle on track. Time slowed down, almost stopped, but then, incredibly, the wheel was back in a rush, tyre burning from the sudden friction as it scorched across loose scree.

Wilde let out the throttle – and he was past the truck. He knew instantly that he had overcooked it; he lost control and the jeep lurched, skidding left and right. His hands fought the wheel as though it were a living thing. From some distant place he heard an explosion, but it was elsewhere, in a dream.

‘Shit,’ Heck said. His head was twisted, peering behind him and his voice little more than a whisper. Then, much louder, he exclaimed, ‘Scheisse!’

They were about to hit another hairpin, but Wilde didn’t dare slow down. The rear wheels were dragging to the right and they were about to plough into the sheer wall of rock.

‘Hey,’ Heck said. ‘Stop, Professor. We’re OK.’

‘What?’

‘They hit each other. The two trucks. They hit each other and they’ve both gone over the edge.’

Wilde slowed, then ground to a halt.

‘Good driving, Professor. Things were looking dicey there.’ Heck jumped out of the jeep and loped back up the hill. Wilde applied the handbrake and followed him. The road at the hairpin was littered with rocks and pieces of metal. Long, swerving tracks of burnt rubber scarred the road where Wilde had fought to gain control.

He caught up with Heck and together they peered over the edge. Far below, they could see the last tumbling journey of the timber lorry and its cargo of trees, falling inexorably into a gorge at the foot of the mountain. The black lorry was a little to the side, cartwheeling – and then both vehicles came together, tangling obscenely like monsters mating as they hit the ground. There was another explosion, echoing and distant. The first one had been the sound of the two lorries colliding; this one was the flash and roar of petroleum igniting and engulfing the wreckage and the two drivers in a ball of flame. Black smoke rose upwards in a filthy cloud.