‘I didn’t know you knew how to do that,’ Bennett said.

‘Neither did I,’ Knox replied between deep breaths.

He pulled the handle of his door, surprised that it still opened, climbed out of the car, and started sprinting towards the Cessna. He was already halfway to the runway before Bennett, who had kicked off her shoes after losing their heels in the airfield’s soil, caught up with him. The coastal night was colder than London, and they were both underdressed in their ballet clothes, but the adrenaline pumping through their veins stopped them from feeling it.

The only sound coming from the broken plane was the slow grinding of the propellers, still trying to touch the sky. Then there was a louder bang of metal on metal as one of the cockpit doors was flung open against the fuselage and Williams climbed out, dragging Holland behind him. They both looked disoriented, their faces smeared with blood.

‘Jack,’ Knox shouted. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Richard,’ Williams replied. His voice was quiet. ‘What happened?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Knox said. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

Knox stepped into the full light of the runway as something inside the Cessna exploded. He instinctively ducked, expecting the plane to go up in flames, but it didn’t.

‘You need to get away from there,’ he shouted at Williams.

But when Knox looked at him he realised his friend’s face had changed from confusion to a hard sneer, and he was staring down at the pistol in his hand.

Williams shifted Holland’s semi-conscious body, holding him up with one arm and bringing the gun up to the side of his head.

Knox reluctantly reached for the Beretta, pulling it out of his shoulder holster but making a show of keeping it pointed at the ground.

‘It’s over, Jack,’ he said.

Williams responded by pressing the Makarov into Holland’s temple.

‘No it isn’t,’ he said, his voice stronger and harder. ‘I’m not finished.’

‘What’s your mission?’ Bennett asked as she stepped into the light of the runway.

‘Extract the director general of MI5,’ Williams replied, almost robotically.

‘We can’t let you do that,’ Bennett replied.

‘You can’t stop me.’

‘You’re cornered. There’s no way out.’

Another explosion erupted behind Williams as the uncontrolled fire that had been growing inside the Cessna’s mangled engine finally reached its fuel tanks. Chunks of fuselage and wing flew up into the air above Knox, Bennett, Williams, and Holland, and came crashing back down, miraculously missing all of them as the rest of the plane turned into a burning pyre.

The blast woke Holland and stunned Williams. He let the pistol fall to his side but didn’t let go of it or his hostage. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked at Knox.

‘Please, old man,’ he cried out. His voice was now weak and plaintive. ‘You have to end this.’