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“Stop,” Steph muttered.

“What?”

“Stop!” she repeated forcibly.

“Why?” said the smaller man, slowing down but not coming to a complete standstill.

“We’re there. We need to get out here or the bear will hear us!”

That sounded legitimate to Steph, but the man just clicked his tongue and sped up once more.

“We want him to hear us, so he comes out to play,” said the larger man touching the weapons again.

Steph could see the logic. It was not, however, what she wanted.

“But the truck won’t be able to get up the slope!” she said, her voice a little more urgent as she watched the trees pass them by; the small ben’s eastern slope getting closer into view.

“This one will,” said the man driving. “Anyway, if the worst comes to the worst, we just get out at the bottom of the hill.”

“Yes, but you can’t do that,” Steph said, shutting her eyes and pinching her nose.

“Why not?”

“Because as soon as the bear hears a motorised vehicle, it will run! It is why we only use electric ones. It has associatedthe motorised ones with our local vet and being brought in for checks. So it runs.”

Steph was impressed with herself. Both the story and the faked disbelief in having to explain so obvious an error was, in her mind, a moment of genius. Even so, had the act landed?

The smaller man slowed the car to a stop.

“What are you doing?” asked the larger one.

“You heard her! If we get too close he’ll hear us and run, and then we’ll have to chase the bugger!”

The larger man shrugged.

“Could be fun. I’d be up for a proper chase.”

“You may well be, but we don’t have the time. We need tosortthings out sooner rather than later… people are dying, remember?”

“How could I forget?” huffed the larger man, already choosing what he wanted to take with him from above his head. Steph watched. He settled on his rifle and two handguns. He caught Steph watching.

“They’re dart guns,” he grinned. “Look.”

He pulled back the chamber of one of the handguns and, sure enough, a sleek-looking dart was inside.

“Looks real though, doesn’t it?”

“And the rifle?” Steph asked.

“Ah,” the man said, “better to be safe than sorry. Things don’t always go as planned.”

“No, they don’t!” said the smaller man helping himself to a rifle to the right of his head. “Although, it would be best if it did.”

He then turned to his friend.

“You sure you don’t want to use this instead of them?” he gestured at the rifle he had taken down that, Steph recognised, was a tranq gun.

“I suppose I should,” the larger man sighed. “Not as fun though. You carry it for now and I can take it when I’m there.”