It was another six minutes to the inlet. Now everyone knew exactly where I was and where I was heading. If there weren’t already Russian troops by the inlet at Kulisko, there soon would be. I rode hard, head down. For a minute I was in the clear. Then more electric green ribbons unwound themselves past me – this time from behind. I looked over my right shoulder. The ATV was back in service. I cracked the birch crop on Boynou’s flank and thrust my hands further forward, giving him the rein to run as fast as he could. Ahead of me the road curved sharply to the right. I leaned into the bend as the driver behind me loosed another burst of 7.62. But he was firing one-handed, at speed, and his aim was way off, spitting the barium-bright bullets into the snow around us.

We took the corner fast and I sat back in the saddle. A soldier stood in front of me, chainsaw in hand, turning towards the noise of Boynou’s hooves thundering on the road. I passed him at arm’s length, firing point blank into his chest as his snowsuit brushed the end of the Makarov’s barrel. He twisted and fell, the saw biting into him as he hit the ground. The semi-auto’s top slide locked back. Out of ammo. I dropped the pistol and took the reins in both hands. As the lights of the ATV swung around behind me, I saw what the soldier had been doing. The road was cut, logs felled across it. Then I saw muzzle flashes – but they couldn’t get a line on me without shooting up the ATV on my heels. I pulled back twice on the reins, hard, to slow Boynou’s pace, and then released them, squeezing with my calves as I came up out of the saddle.

He jumped. The logs passed beneath us. Soldiers dived for cover. Silence. And then a terrific crunch as the driver ploughed headlong into the barricade behind. The halogen headlight beams swivelled crazily in the snow-filled air. And then the only light was the weak silver sheen cast by the moon as it struggled to break through the reforming clouds. The road forked. I bore left. Boynou’s hooves skidded on the ice. He stumbled, back legs faltering. But he steadied himself and carried on, sinews straining, nostrils flared, streaming sweat and steam and blood into the cold night air.

Kulisko swarmed with sweeping headlights. I pulled Boynou off the road and into a field. His canter slowed to a trot, bouncing his way through the freshly settled snow.

Two hundred and fifty metres to the lakeside.