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Panos stumbled along the footpath as the car took off quietly ahead of him. He pressed the shortcut for Russell and then noticed the time on the screen: two o’clock. It wasn’t night, it was the middle of the fucking morning. What the hell did Susan’s son want him for?

Kane McLaren, bloody war hero, had made it very clear from their first meeting that he didn’t think Panos was good enough for his mother. At the time, he’d just moved into her house in Cullen Bay. Now Susan was at the farm, living in that bloody falling-down house where it had all begun. It was probably what Kane wanted to front him about, but for God’s sake why at this time of the morning?

‘What do you want, Panos?’ Fairweather didn’t sound as though he’d been woken. Maybe he never slept.

‘I’m sorry. I was out of line the other day.’ He pulled himself straight and forced a worried tone into his voice. ‘I hear the vote went our way.’

‘Our way? We’re finished. Remember?’ Fairweather’s chuckle was almost friendly.

‘No, no. I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ve been a loyal friend to you, Russell.’

‘You had your chance. It’s too late now.’

‘I’ll come and see you. Tomorrow.’ Panos knew he couldn’t do what Russell wanted but he could bluff his way through. ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong.’

‘Panos? I’m sorry too.’ With that enigmatic comment, the call disconnected.

Shoving the phone into his trouser pocket with the other one, Panos brushed his hands down the front of his shirt and then wiped his mouth.

The salt-laden air from the harbour hit him full in the face as he rounded the corner and he sobered a little more. The garishly lit McDonald’s on the corner of McMinn Street was empty. No sign of Kane. He’d better bloody turn up.

First thing tomorrow, he’d call Russell again.

He crossed the road to the small park at the edge of the harbour. He often sat there when he got sick of being in his office, and he knew there was a tap down the steps near the boat ramp. He’d get himself a bit presentable and wash this bloody awful taste out of his mouth.

A vehicle cruised along the street behind him and pulled to a halt as he hurried across the grass. As he sluiced cold water over his face, Panos shivered. The row of industrial buildings was in darkness and all was silent. The garish blue light of the Fishermen’s Co-op lit the far end of the street as it flashed every few seconds but its customers were long gone.

He straightened up and stared over the inky black water. The lights of distant fishing boats twinkled silently back at him. To the north, just beyond the horizon, were the Tiwi Islands. If Russell wouldn’t listen to him, maybe he could get on a boat and disappear there. Or into Arnhem Land. He had some cash in the office.

But there was Susan to consider.

The door of a vehicle swung open with an ominous squeak. He looked up. A tall man stood on the footpath above him, clad in black. The light was behind him and his features were hidden beneath a dark cap pulled down over his hair and covering his face. The man pulled a torch from his pocket and shone it into his eyes.

Now he couldn’t see a damn thing.

‘Kane?’

Panos took a step into the darkness. The air stirred subtly as the man jumped over the rocks in a swift, panther-like movement. Suddenly his hands were held tightly behind his back and he had been twisted around to face the water again. Tears sprang to his eyes as the man grabbed his hair, pulling his head back almost at right angles to his spine.

He tried to make out his attacker’s face but all he could see were dark eyes staring down at him impassively in the dim light.

Guttural sounds came from his throat as he tried to protest.

‘It’s a long time since I’ve killed anyone like this.’ The words were delivered in a harsh whisper.

The assailant kicked the back of his knees and let go of him at the same time. Panos fell forwards, his forehead hitting a rock at the base of the low rise to the footpath. With a soft grunt he lay on his stomach. Terror filled him as the man above him spoke again.

‘The crocs are going to enjoy their breakfast today.’

‘Kane? Is that you? Please, I’m sorry.’ But there was no response.

Before he could move, strong arms looped behind his elbows and he was dragged across the small car park, his legs flailing uselessly on the rough bitumen. The assailant paused for a moment to unhook the chain across the boat ramp, and Panos looked around desperately. A single vehicle with an empty boat trailer was parked beside the concrete ramp. A wild hope surged through him.

‘Help me,’ he croaked. He looked out to the harbour, but the lights of the fishing boats were far from the shore.

‘Stand up.’

The man yanked him to his feet and his head spun. Vomit filled his throat again and he gagged.