‘Oh God, no, please don’t take him.’ Sarah was rocking herself to and fro, her hands still tied behind her back, her head beating against the floorboards as the agonising fear spread through her body. ‘Please bring him back safe, dear God. Don’t take him away from us. Please, please, dear God, just let him be safe. Have mercy on us, I beg of You. And above all, let him somehow be safe.’

Beside her Camilla had begun to shiver, her body quivering with fear and shock as images of Piet, living and laughing and vibrant, flashed across her brain. She opened her mouth to pray for mercy, and tasted the blood that was still welling and trickling down her face and across her lips. Hannah was huddled on the floor, her elbows tucked in against her sides to keep her shaking form intact. Suddenly she made an exclamation, turning her head and trying to scramble to her feet.

‘I hear a car,’ she said tersely. ‘It could be Lars.’ The beam of headlights approaching gave them a flicker of hope, and they drew back together. ‘It must be him. But we have to warn him, somehow. They could—’

Then they heard a shot.

‘Oh God. If there’s shooting we’ll all be killed. Lars won’t realise there’s five of them here. Oh God, we’re all going to die now, for sure.’ Hannah was petrified, moaning in her despair.

From outside they heard further gun shots, followed by the sound of pounding feet and car engines revving. Doors slammed, gears crashed, and the noise of vehicles died away. For what seemed like an age there was a deathly stillness. Not an insect could be heard in the awful cavern of the night.

‘Hannah?’ Piet’s breath was coming in painful gasps as he stumbled up the steps, pulling out his knife to cut each one of them free. They clung together briefly, weeping with relief and revulsion and shock. ‘Lars is badly hurt. Come quickly, Han. Jesus, Camilla! Your face – I hadn’t realised it was so bad. And you’re still bleeding!’

‘It’s not important.’ Camilla pushed his hand away.