I examined the typed list. ‘Are they all fleet cars-I mean, all that attractive shade of orange?’

‘Ochre.’ He looked embarrassed when he said it. ‘That’s what it’s called, ochre. No, that’s going out. People don’t want to advertise that they’ve got a hire car. It’s on the list. The Holdens are… orange. The Laser and the others are different colours. They’ve got a small logo on them, that’s all.’

I grunted. ‘They don’t have to say where they’re going, do they?’

‘No, just stipulate a period. They’re supposed to say if they’re going interstate; affects the insurance. None of this lot did. Probably means they went to Perth.’

‘You never know, they could be in Surry Hills. Well, I’ll follow you up on the checking and try the photos out on a few people. There’s a few other possibilities too.’

‘Like what?’

‘Don’t be so negative, Terry. Like the make-up angle; can’t be a hell of a lot of people around who can do that stuff.’

‘I’m worried.’

‘I said: ‘Don’t worry’ and immediately thought of something to worry him. ‘Those cars weren’t all signed out by the same person, were they?’

‘No. Jesus, Cliff, I trust all these people.’

He did, too, and it was a good reason to work for him. I stood up and the phone rang. He said ‘Yes’ into it, and then groaned. ‘Which one?’ The voice on the line sounded agitated. I sat down again. Terry listened and aged in front of my eyes. ‘Okay, okay, calm down. I’m doing something about it right now. Just send in the paperwork as soon as you can, and the pictures. Take your time.’

He put the receiver down gently. He was looking straight through me, and I swivelled my head to look at the wall behind me. There was a big poster of Ayers Rock, looking red and mysterious. I wanted to say that the cars wouldn’t be parked behind the rock but I didn’t. Terry was undergoing some sort of crisis.