To Finn, it wasn’t progress.It was the same old crime just dressed in better clothes.
He finished his dinner, and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin Taryn had folded with ridiculous neatness.Then tossed the empty container onto the passenger floor, just as a low beat of wind shifted the trees, as the sound came thick and rhythmic.
The chopper.
Finn stepped out of the troopy and rolled his shoulders.Time to work.
The helicopter came in low and fast, whipping the treetops and flattening the spinifex like it had something to prove.Typical Stone, too much flair, with just enough control to get away with it.
Finn squinted into the grit as the skids hit the dried-up floodplain.The moment the blades slowed enough to not lose a hat, the door swung open.
Stone jumped down, headset still on, carrying a bag in hand.Grinning like a kid as he adjusted the coiled lead from his headphones to tuck it into his shirt pocket.
Romy remained seated in the chopper, giving Finn a short wave through the windshield, then turned back to her screen that manned the drone.Good.
Finn nodded to Stone, then motioned toward the troopy’s hood where his maps were spread out, anchored by spare water bottles and half a brick.It reminded him of Taryn’s use of rocks and dirt to put his paperwork in place.
That woman.It was enough for the grin to curl for just a second.
‘What did you find?’
‘We followed that truck to the old quarry.They’re all set up here.’Stone pointed to a spot on the map.
Finn scanned over the map as Tooley’s voice echoed in the back of his mind from today’s interrogation:…flying the boxes out from the airfield tucked behind the old quarry…
He’d added it to his mental notes, as he hadn’t had time to follow up on it.But now, it lined up just right.The quarry wasn’t just a stop—it was more.And Finn wanted to know everything going on at that place.‘Get any motion cams set up there?’
‘Only on the entrance ways.’Stone put the bag on the bonnet.‘Got more if you want.’
‘Good.I want full surveillance on that place if we can.’
‘Thought so.I’ve already got Romy’s footage uploading to the cloud.She’s clocked a pen of cattle, a demountable for an office, one ute, two trucks and a stack of fake livestock transport trailers.’
‘How do you know they’re fake?’
‘None of the trailer numbers match any of the manifest logs with the trucking company.The Duchess taught me how to do the searches.’Stone grinned, proud of himself, and the fact that Amara had taught Stone anything made it sweeter.
‘Which company are they using?’
‘HHA.’
Highway Haulers Australia were huge and had the kind of loyalty you couldn’t buy.They were one of those trusted brands in a field where clients didn’t like change.Just like Red, who’d been the stock agent for the same cattle stations for decades.
‘If they’re all branded the same, that explains how the swapped trailers went undetected in the stockyard…’ Finn’s mind put the pieces into place.‘And that’s why HHA hasn’t called about the road train taking up space in Craig’s yard.Red and his crew have been using those fake trucks, but on paper as SW contracting.’
It all made sense.
Finn tapped out a message on his phone, reminding Craig and Amara to check the VINs and any other identifying details on the road train in Craig’s yard, then trace where it came from.If Porter was still at Dustfire, he’d pick up on any tampering, he was well trained to read those signs.And Amara would know exactly where to find them in the system.
Behind them, another engine approached.It was Amara’s new patrol wagon clawing its way up the ridge.
‘What’s this?’Amara closed her car door and approached them.‘The Good, the Bad, and the Barely Groomed—live from Campdog’s Scratch, starring the feral pilot as the Stock Squad’s answer toMission Impossible?’
‘Keep talkin’ like that, Duchess, and I’ll make sure your next mission involves a seat on the chopper, with doors off while I take a nap.’Stone shot back, always grinning.
‘Remind me why we let you two talk in public?’Finn grumbled over the map.
Amara tossed a cloth roll of GPS tags onto the bonnet.‘Here are the tags.You know, sir, we don’t have the warrants for surv—’
